


Ouroboros in Ink

by SteeleStingray



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Auguste (Captive Prince) Lives, Auguste Lives, Clients to lovers, Damen never wears sleeves in this AU btw, Flirting, Laurent is not so secretly feral, M/M, Modern AU, Nik is pierced all to hell and he's still a punk, Oral Sex, Snakes, Tattoos, You know those unthinking little touches that Damen does and it drives Laurent insane?, because I am predictable, cute dates, lots of art, though he's only mentioned, yeah lots of that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:29:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25092394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SteeleStingray/pseuds/SteeleStingray
Summary: Damen owns a tattoo parlor that specializes in traditional Akielon tattoo designs so he's a bit shocked when an un-inked Veretian comes through the door and demands a tattoo that covers his entire back. With no design in mind and a face that should be painted reverently on canvas and admired in a museum, Laurent's simple request for an appointment takes much longer than either of them expected.
Relationships: Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince)
Comments: 312
Kudos: 599





	1. Pretty Face

**Author's Note:**

> Hi friends!
> 
> It's been a whole month since I posted the end of Cherry Wine and, in that month, I have managed to only write 2.5 chapters of this fic. Heinous. Haha in any case, I'll try to upload every 10 days or so because I am moving SLOW these days. 
> 
> I would like to thank snakes first and foremost. I love them as creatures, but who would have guessed that they'd be my fucking muse??? Another fic that will rely heavily on the snake imagery because I am a predictable bitch and I think this will be AT LEAST fic number 4 that has snakes.
> 
> I also tired to keep it at 5 chapters but HA! When have I EVER stuck to the original page count?
> 
> Also shoutout to @duhhoney on Twitter for giving like 2/3 sentence Capri AUs and we just kind of...keep building on them haha! She has talked about Laurent with a tattoo at least twice and I'm succumbing to the idea. Get ready for a lot of description of Damen thinking endlessly about gently touching/pressing Laurent's skin while our boy is getting inked.
> 
> AlsoI love you all and I hope you're staying safe! Enjoy!

At first, Damen did not look up when the small bell chimed over the door, too preoccupied with unpacking the new inks that Pallas had ordered the week prior. But Nik could never let him alone for more than a few moments, the wooden beads in his braids clattering together as he called out from the back.

“Damen, can you take this one? I have my hands full.”

“Sure thi--” Damen’s words died halfway between his mind and his mouth. 

Oh. _Oh_.

He was something else. 

It was the long, slender neck, maybe, or the sharp cut of his cheekbones. His eyes had the same shape and color as a Siamese cat and he held himself as tight and light as a cat, the bunch of his muscles clear, even under his clothes. And he seemed to glow. 

His skin was finer than Akielon marble, fine as the glossy cream that came from the farms of central Vere. There was not a blemish, not a freckle or a mole, interrupting the pale expanse and Damen’s heart beat unevenly when he thought of how well the young man’s skin would hold the color of their new inks. It would set in him as easily as ink on paper and Damen was suddenly thrilled that Nik had asked him to take on this customer. 

“Can I--?”

“I’m here to get a tattoo.” His voice was a notch lower than Damen had imagined, a little raspy but still pleasant. A single fingernail tapped errantly on the glass countertop as he looked over the glossy trove of hoops and barbells Nik kept on display. “I assume you’re the man for the job?”

Damen smiled, pleased that he had worn a sleeveless shirt.

Both arms were tattooed knuckle to shoulder and, when he leaned over, a sharp eye could see the top of the intricate piece on his flank. Typical Akielon-style tattoos, they were geometric and sharp, using only black, blue, violet, and red. He’d lost track of how many he had, though he treasured each one.

“I am. Name’s Damen.” 

“Laurent.”

“Virgin?”

“ _Excuse me_?” His voice was sharp and cold as a knife blade, eyes looking like he was sizing Damen up for a fight and Damen immediately rushed to make amends before Laurent leapt over the counter and vivisected him. 

“Your skin. It’s your first time right? Tattoo virgin?”

“For lack of a better term, yes.” Laurent did not seem all too pleased with the slang but at least he no longer looked to be considering tearing Damen’s throat out. “Why? Do you hold issues with virgins?” 

“Not in the least. I’d be more than happy to ink you up.” Damen assured him, hoping that his smile was the picture of innocence. When this Laurent glared at him in suspicion, Damen almost wanted the sting of scratching nails or an open-palm slap against his cheek. “Where are you thinking of getting it?”

Damen would have guessed a small piece on the wrist or something a little more daring on the flank but Laurent surprised him. 

“I want it across my entire back.” 

If Damen had been holding something, he would have dropped it on the counter. He tried to imagine Laurent’s pale skin, stretched tight as a blank canvas across the smooth planes of his back; the back was a slow, painful place to be tattooed, but he had a feeling that Laurent would grit his teeth and bear it, maybe only a slight whitening of his clenched fists as his skin bloomed with black ink. His fingertips tingled at the thought.

He wanted to do it.

“I can certainly do that. But depending on the size and intricacy, it may take several appointments to finish.” The thought of seeing Laurent again had his chest fluttering. “What design were you thinking of?” 

He was genuinely curious.

His shop specialized in tattooing dark skin tones, particularly southern Akielons and Patrans, and Damen himself was renowned in the Akielon community for his excellence with geometric patterns and simple designs with minimal uses of color. Their parlor did not get many Veretians, as a general rule. 

Those impossibly blue eyes flicked to the photos of past designs pinned on the walls and the young man almost seemed nervous. “I...actually don’t really care about the design. I just want it done. As quickly as possible.”

“Excuse me?” Laurent looked so neat, held himself so carefully that Damen was shocked he would be fine with anything.

“Choose something for me and let’s set an appointment.” Laurent’s jaw was set, his eyes blank and uncaring. He may as well have been asking for a trim of his hair rather than something intricate and permanent. There seemed to be no...passion, no interest in the act.

Damen took a deep breath as he tried not to be offended. 

“May I be frank?” He asked, leaning against the glass countertops in direct violation of Nik’s pleas not to, for fear of cracking the glass. “I think you might not be ready for a tattoo.”

One perfect golden eyebrow arched in surprise, the accompanying ‘smile’ more of a challenge. “Oh?”

Damen thought of the rich history of tattooing he had studied; not just Akielos but the mystic battle runes of Ver-Vask, the intricate flowing scripts and concentric religious tattoos of Patras, the colorful storytelling tattoos of ancient Vere and Kempt. It went against everything he believed in.

“It’s...not something I take so lightly.”

“It seems we are at an impasse then.” Laurent squared himself as if he was preparing to hold his ground, as if Damen would have to physically haul him out of the shop rather than leave without ink. “I need an appointment today before…” his hand clenched softly into a fist on the glass, “before I lose my nerve.”

Perhaps Damen would have to drag him out. He sighed and ran his hands through his wild hair. “You’re all in, aren’t you?”

“I’m not leaving.” Laurent said, lovely for his intensity. Damen nodded and moved from behind the counter.

“Nik?” Damen called out. “Can I ask you a favor?”

Nikandros came out of the back rooms, looking like a metal detector’s worst nightmare. Though he liked ink as much as Damen, he had also discovered the joys of piercing needles and was hole-punched through the ears, eyebrows, tongue, lower lip, and septum, not to mention all the hoops hidden by his clothes. He saw their customer, this Laurent, and metal flashed as he raised one eyebrow. 

“Yeah?”

“This is Laurent. He’s in the market for some designs and so I’m going to take him next door so we can talk shop. Are you ok to hold the shop down until Pallas or Kastor roll in?” Damen kept his tone light, hoping that Nik would not question him as to why he couldn’t show Laurent some designs in the front lounge of the studio, an area they had put in specifically for these types of situations.

Nik looked at Damen as though he did not believe him for one hot second but he was a loyal friend through and through. He rolled his dark eyes and waved his hand dismissively. “Fine, fine.”

Damen smiled wide at him; he’d have to bring Nik some of those ginger-lemon candies he liked so much. “How does it feel to be my favorite, Nik?”

“Amazing.” Nik said, deadpan.

“He seems fun.” Laurent said, smiling at Nik’s retreat.

“Oh he is. Shall we go?” Damen held open the door, ignoring the binders of art he kept on hand to show customers just like Laurent. He knew every piece of art inside but...something told him that Laurent wouldn’t find what he was looking for between those pages.

Laurent followed him and Damen felt his gaze like the chill, blue of winter.

The shop just next door was owned by Patrans and was one of those hole-in-the-wall establishments that were hard to quit once a customer got a taste. 

The air was thick with bitter ginger, orange peel, and the powder of fresh ground coffee, as well as warm milk and a cloying mix of lavender, rosewater, and vanilla. Alcohol could also be discreetly added to any beverage of loyal patrons and Damen took his customary black coffee with a dash of vanilla liqueur, Laurent ordering milk tea with sprigs of lavender and a stick of cinnamon. There was something charming about the young man being so cool and assured but also seeming weak to sugar, the corners of his mouth turning up after he licked the milky foam off the full bow of his upper lip.

“And?”

“It’s good.” Laurent admitted. “But you cannot possibly hope to bribe me with tea and a charming cafe.” Damen liked his accent when he said ‘cafe’ and smiled. “I am notoriously hard to please and I am set in my mind.”

“I do love a challenge.”

Laurent raised his eyebrows. “I intend to haunt you until I get what I want. And I want an appointment-preferably for today--and for you to choose a tattoo that spans the length and width of my back.”

“Can I give you my professional opinion?” Damen asked with full intent of giving it, regardless of what Laurent wanted. 

“I’m all ears.” 

Damen briefly considered how good a small tattoo--a Vaskian rune or a small flower--would look tucked behind the shell of Laurent’s ear, only visible when close and his mouth went a little dry. “This is your first time being tattooed and for such a large, expensive piece I think you’d be happier in the end if you chose something meaningful or something you like at the very least. You don’t want me inking something I’m currently obsessed with just because you think you don’t care.”

Laurent’s mouth tilted up a little with the challenge. “And what are you currently obsessed with?”

“Your eyes.” Damen said before he had thought through the words. Sometimes living with his own mouth was an adventure. 

Laurent did not seem to have a response for that, instead taking a long moment to sip his tea while Damen fought to keep his mind blank at risk of incriminating himself any further. His face heated a little as he felt those beautiful, judgemental eyes on his face. 

“With your convictions you must lose a lot of money on any stupid drunks who stumble in and ask for something stamped on their ass cheek.”

“You are hardly drunk.” Damen smiled as he tried not to imagine Laurent’s ass cheek and what ink would look good there. _Something abstract maybe? A watercolor aurora or a small splash of watercolor flame that would heat up if kissed_ . “And if you _are_ stupid then you hide it exceedingly well.”

“Mmm such a way with words.” He slipped one pinkie around the rim of his teacup to dredge up the extra foam and Damen watched it, transfixed. “You make a compelling argument though...a professional with your skill and passion? I cannot help but feel that you would make a good choice of what to put on me.”

Laurent tilted his head, turning the full force of his blue gaze and small, wicked smile on Damen and Damen suddenly felt like he was breathing in hot, humid air. The words were like the strains of sweet vanilla in the air: maybe Laurent was right, maybe Damen should just--

He laughed when he realized his train of thought, breaking Laurent’s expression from half-lidded pleading to honest surprise. “You’re good. Trying to manipulate me like that. But I promise you, I’m too stubborn to be that weak to compliments.”

Laurent rolled his eyes then, spell broken. “Duly noted. I’ll rely on insults next time.”

Damen laughed again and saw Laurent’s eyes flick to his left cheek where Nik had once offered to hole punch a barbell through the dimple there. “I look forward to it. But now if you don’t mind, I’d like to try and manipulate you in return.”

“Oh, by all means.” Laurent’s eyelashes were so long, Damen wondered if they would brush the surface of the tea as he took a sip. 

Damen waited until the teacup was placed safely down in its cup before he reached out to gently take Laurent’s wrist in one hand, pulling Laurent’s arm closer over the table. He laughed at the expression on Laurent’s face. “What? I’ll give you your arm back, I swear.”

Laurent was rigid as Damen folded the sleeve of his shirt back up to his elbow. There was not a single spot, only pale skin.

“You know that you can attempt to manipulate me without removing my clothes?”

“I’m just--” Damen started laughing in spite of himself, “let me work here.”

“The tattoo is meant to go on my back. And besides,” there was a tremor under his skin as Damen gently turned his arm, “my mind is made up.”

“Tattoos are permanent and painful to remove and we don’t make good business from people who regret their tattoos. I’ve just met you but I’d much rather not have you feel pain or regret, in spite of how good you are at trying to manipulate me. Trust me,” Damen said softly, cradling Laurent’s forearm in both hands and marveling at the smooth, blank expanse of skin; he ran the risk of Laurent leaving and possibly talking himself out of a tattoo or deciding to go to another parlor but...he wanted to do it right. “Not even the gods have seen fit to leave a mark or a blemish on your skin and I would be honored to be the first to put a mark down. But...I want to do it right. You will like the end result so much more if it’s something you want. And it’s more fun for me as well.”

He rubbed one thumb against Laurent’s skin before relaxing his grip and Laurent slid his arm out. Damen jolted a little as Laurent took the opportunity to grab his forearm in turn. He had the slim hands that would look good on the keys of a piano and they were surprisingly strong.

“You have so many. All of yours have meaning?” His cool finger errantly traced the black curve of a leaf on Damen’s forearm. 

“Yes.”

Laurent’s cup drained steadily as Damen dragged his fingertips over the designs on his skin. He described each one with loving detail; a personal curator giving a tour of his beloved, private collection. 

He could trace his ancestry to the Akielon kings of antiquity, so he had the lion head coin on the bulging curve of his shoulder. The Vaskian runes were gifts from his Vaskian artist friends after he had attended one of their famous fertility festivals and done...several things worthy of the praise of his tattoo. He had the Akielon calendar symbols for the birthdates of his father, mothers, and his half brother encircling the skin just below the bend of his elbow. His first tattoo was on the bone of his wrist: a matching friendship sprig of Bear’s Breech he had drunkenly gotten with Nikandros and had since touched up. Circles of traditional Akielon geometric designs that had edged his family’s traditional home in Lentos curled down his arms in ribbons. A crown of laurels for victory and good fortune encircled his bicep and Laurent’s mouth quirked up at his namesake on Damen’s dark skin. 

Rarely did he get a chance to wax poetic about his favorite art, about _his_ art and Laurent was clearly not listening simply to be polite. His gaze was intense and focused on the line work and grins seemed to catch him by surprise whenever Damen revealed a particularly embarrassing or foolhardy backstory to one of the designs. 

“Your work is exceptional.” Laurent complimented him as he released Damen’s arm. 

“Thank you.” Damen was smiling but it fell from his face when he tried to take a sip of his coffee to find it cold; clearly he had gotten too caught up with talking. At least it made Laurent laugh, the expression lighting up his lovely face, and if Damen hadn’t been a little smitten before, then he was now. “J-Just think of tattoos like a piece of art you’re buying. You have to like it or...what’s the point?” He cleared the curls from his face and Laurent’s eyes were everywhere on him. “I...I want you to like it.”

“I see your point, I suppose.”

“If you’d like,” Damen pulled a company card from his back pocket, scribbling his personal phone number on the back of it, “think about it for a couple days. Send me some pictures of art that you like and I’ll show you some designs so we can move on from there. If you really are serious, then I’ll make sure your tattoo is a work of art.” _To match your face_. 

Laurent took the card between his index and middle finger and regarded the number on the back with a wry grin. “Do you give your phone number to all your customers?”

“Only in absolute emergencies.” 

“Are you sure it doesn’t have anything to do with your obsession with my eyes?” Laurent asked, resting a corner of the card just below the fringe of his lower lashes. Those eyes were...something else. 

“You’re welcome to change your mind about getting a tattoo or using our shop,” Damen shrugged as he took another sip of the coffee, guilty about wasting it, “but I would be happy to see you and your eyes back in front of me in the near future.”

“How bold. Should I let you know now that I’m a serial killer who targets tattoo artists?”

“I’m drinking cold coffee with alcohol in it,” Damen responded just as quickly, “clearly I fear nothing.”

Laurent laughed in disbelief before standing. “Thank you for this. It’s been...enlightening.” 

“My pleasure.”

Damen watched him go and downed the rest of the coffee, if only for the distraction, his heart fluttering from the interaction. When his phone buzzed, he nearly dropped it on the floor. He had taken Laurent as the cool, aloof type. Would he really reach out so soon after leaving Damen’s company?

No.

It was a text from Nikandros, who had likely seen Laurent leave and pass in front of the large windows of their shop. 

‘So...you’re fucked.’


	2. Sharp Tongue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back babes!  
> This whole story has become just Damen and Laurent having fun hanging out with each other as well as their delight in finding they have the same tastes in art and media ;) It's nice to write them not being antagonistic day 1.  
> Also I love the idea of Kastor and Damen's relationship being just common sibling shit haha that feeling of 'I love you and I show it by roasting you ceaselessly'. Next chapter should be out around the 25th!  
> Enjoy!

Laurent did end up texting Damen, though he waited for a much more reasonable length of time to reach out. He also sent a text in the middle of the night, Damen half asleep as he slapped his phone and tried to decipher the message. He nearly yanked the phone charger, plug and all, clean out of the wall when he saw the sharply sweet contents of the message:

‘Still obsessed with my eyes?’

Clearly Laurent’s wit did not abate at the late hour and Damen was awake immediately, clearing the wild curls from his vision. The answer was ‘yes’, he could not get that particular shade of blue out of his mind and he scrambled, naked, from bed to the wall of bookshelves in his room.

Most of the books in his room were art books and he grasped for the one by the Kemptian artist, Orla. Her scenes were fantastical, often set in the icy landscapes of Kempt, and specifically featured the sparkling blue of lake ice, fantastic creatures caught under the frozen surface. He found a painting where the ice was bubbling up into crystals of a fanged  _ aurora borealis _ , the colors just as vibrant as Laurent’s irises, and he sent a picture to Laurent by way of response.

Though he had expected some kind of reply teasing him, Damen was not prepared for his phone to start ringing, the new number emblazoned at the top.

He answered immediately. “What kind of demon calls someone at three in the morning?”

The smile was clear in Laurent’s sleepy tone and Damen could imagine him lounging in bed, his golden hair spilling over his arm. “You like Orla too.” Damen smiled wide in response, pleased that Laurent knew of her.

“I do. I went to her gallery show when she was touring Akielos. Bought a couple of her art books there.”

“And would you tattoo one of her paintings on my back?”

“Something like it…” He knew he sounded reluctant; the painting was beautiful but it just wasn’t right.

Laurent laughed and Damen heard the rustling of sheets as Laurent rolled over, “Another one of your strange rules for tattoos? Won’t copy another artist’s work? Worried it will take the attention away from my eyes?”

“From what I’ve heard of you, your mouth is more than capable of hoarding the attention.” Damen laughed, leaning his bare hip against the wood of the bookshelf. It felt like he was dreaming, listening to that low, raspy voice talk about art over the phone while ass-naked leaning against his bookshelf. 

“Speaking of mouths,” Laurent fell silent for a moment until Damen received a photo message, “have you seen this artist before?”

Damen grinned even wider when he looked at the pictures.

They were sculptures like yawning mouths or waves, made from a mixture of teeth, sparkling crystals, and paste jewels. He had seen several of these in-person on his latest trip to Vask. “Of course. I love the one called ‘Devil and the Deep Blue Sea’.” The teeth had been carved with dark blue Vaskian runes interspersed with glittering black and orange-red gems.

“I like it too.” Laurent agreed, “It’s like...when a lava flow meets the ocean. I can never tell if...the statue brings up feelings of violence or cooling down. What about ‘I Hear the Wolves’?”

Damen felt a swoop in the pit of his stomach.

He felt the urge to photograph all of his favorite art pieces--paintings, sculptures, sketches, even music--to see what Laurent thought of them. Art was so integral, it was a part of the way that he expressed love and...knowing that Laurent understood was exhilarating. “Do you need to get up early tomorrow?”

“Of course I do. But by all means, keep talking.”

Damen smiled as he reached for another one of his art books. “You should have called me earlier.” 

Nik was annoyingly perceptive, his tongue moving the matte black loop in his lip back and forth as he looked at Damen’s backpack and the way that Damen was yawning. He had been up late most nights exchanging pictures with Laurent, their message feed a solid ribbon of art from the both of them. 

And Laurent was going to come into the tattoo shop to look at some of his art collection.

“Do you think there’s such a thing as an artistic soulmate?” He sighed opening a box of latex gloves. 

“A what?” Pallas asked as he brought Damen a cup of coffee.

“Here we fucking go.” Nik groaned as he sorted sterile, packaged piercing needles. Nik was in his best mood when he was grumpy, deadpan, or nihilistic. “I bet it’s that Veretian who came in two weeks back. I’ll bet a bell-end piercing that you’re running on empty and are just jerking out your tears at night. That’s why you look so tired.” 

“He likes all the same artists as me, Nik. He’s even shown me new ones. This artist who uses resin and torn fruit and flower petals on people’s hands and photographs it as it all drips off onto a black canvas.” When he saw it, he felt the art like a vortex in his stomach, he wanted to sew oranges and peaches and cherries onto his skin with a needle and black ink.

“Sounds erotic.” Pallas said, lounging quite naturally, like a young god in an ancient Akielon painting. Pallas would find most things erotic. 

“It’s...got _feeling_ , you know?” There was so much passion inside of Damen that he was sensitive to it in things that others created. He didn’t understand how others couldn’t see it and it was like the elation and adrenaline of the first line of ink, finding a kindred spirit in Laurent. Despite how he was wound a little tighter, maybe a few degrees cooler, there was the same strain of electrifying passion underneath Laurent’s ceramic-smooth skin. He drank the first sip of coffee and rolled a metal barbell around in time with the caffeine. 

“Am I going to have to step in and handle your appointments today?” Nik asked, unimpressed. “I preferred you exhausted. If you tried to tat anyone now, it’d look like shit unless they’re asking for a drawing of an EKG readout.”

“You’re on a roll today, Nik!” Pallas laughed. “Why are you in such a good mood?”

Damen did not hear Nik’s response because his eye was caught by the movement of people outside their enormous windows. 

One, lean and dark and smiling, was his earliest appointment--Kallias--who was directing his delight at the paler mirror of Laurent, his smile more subdued. Damen’s heart beat a little faster as Laurent held the door open for Kallias. “Welcome. Welcome back.”

Maybe he was feeding his own ego but Damen liked to think that Laurent’s smile got a little brighter when he saw Damen. His eyes were like winter wind. “Miss me?”

Damen grinned. “Got something for you.”

“Is it an appointment slot?” Laurent took his jacket off, his shirt stretching across his chest as he moved. His clothes had to be tailored; nothing off the rack would fit so perfectly and somehow so tight. 

“Art books. I’ve also got flashers for you to look at.”

“You’re going to expose yourselves to me?” Pallas snorted with laughter and Kallias also bent double. “You Akielons always surprise.”

Damen flushed. “Flashes or flashers are sketches of tattoos that I’ve made before. I also like to keep copies of Akielon geometric patterns I see. Got binders of them lying around if you want to take a look.” Laurent was elbow deep in Damen’s leather backpack, a heavy art book falling open in his hands. “Though Nik might drop his trousers if you ask nicely.”

“I will not.” Nik said, brandishing his piercing gun. 

Damen smiled at his friend semi-hoping that Laurent would actually ask Nik. He was glancing over like he was considering it. “Hey,” his voice was a little lower, a little more private; Laurent looked up, his light hair falling in his eyes, “after I finish up with Kallias...would you want to grab some lunch with me?”

The hair went back behind his ear as Laurent looked Damen up and down. His reply was equally soft. “Ok.”

Damen was positively bouncing as he followed Kallias into his tattooing room. “You’re in a good mood Damen.”

“Let’s see it then.”

Kallias pulled up his gauzy shirt to reveal a lean runner’s physique and a poorly tattooed bird on the part of his flank just above his hip. Kallias glanced at it and smiled self-consciously.

“Lias...I  _ told _ you--”

“Damen, don’t nag me. I know it’s bad.” Kallias bumped Damen’s arm with his bony hip. “I know what you told me but I didn’t listen because I’m young, dumb, and full of cum.” Damen nearly choked on his laughter “Can you cover it up?”

“I can because I love you. Get up on the table and I’ll get you set up.”

He liked the careful methods, the little preparations as Kallias shucked his shirt off, loose black waves spilling down his back. Damen put on his black surgical mask and the latex gloves they kept in massive boxes to keep things sterile. The package of alcohol wipes he kept in his pocket so that they would not be cold against his customer’s skin, he was gentle with the razor to remove all the hair from the area over Kallias’ old tattoo. The blue violet stencil looked so good against Kallias’ skin, Damen almost regretted that Kallias wanted his tattoo in black.

“Ready?” Damen picked up the delicate gun, dipping it in ink. 

His focus was usually laser intense when he was inking but he felt the gaze on him. He was unsurprised to look up and see that startling blue. Laurent was leaning against the glass of the counters, watching the tattoo gun. His lips curved slightly.

“See something you like?”

“Don’t stop on my account.” Laurent inched closer and Kallias looked up.

“Do you mind if he watches?” Damen asked, inclining his head towards Laurent. “He wants to get a tattoo but he’s a little scared.”

“Of needles?” Kallias propped himself up.

“I’m not scared.” Laurent insisted levelly, his ears pink.

“Of my devastating good looks.” Damen added, inordinately pleased when Laurent rolled his eyes. 

“Sure, pull up a chair.” Kallias was friendly and fine-tempered, more than happy to have an audience. Laurent spared him a smile though it took on an edge like red wine when his eyes flicked back over to Damen. The look was challenging: sweet and sharp and alcoholic. 

He moved silently, his clothes barely rustling as he crossed his legs and watched Damen lower the tip of the needle back down to Kallias’ dark skin. He tensed at the first touch of the needle but relaxed once he was used to the sensation. 

“No need to be scared.” Kallias sighed. “Damen’s the best at it: smooth and gentle and the cleanest lines. It would look bomb on you.”

“What are you getting?”

“The Akielon compass. It guides us in life and through the skies of the afterlife.” Kallias said, his black lashes resting against his cheeks as he closed his eyes. “The lines have to be straight or...you’ll get lost.”

“Mmm…” Laurent leaned in to watch, Damen catching a light smell of cologne. “How does it work? The tattooing, I mean.”

Damen did not pause in his work, though he longed to look up. “The ink has to get under the skin. So this gun has a hollow needle with ink on the tip and it punctures tiny holes thousands of times depending on how much pressure I put on the foot pedal,” He inclined his head towards the floor where he was pressing the chrome pedal, “ink is pushed into the dermis and once it heals over,” using the paper towel to wipe away the excess ink, Damen showed the clean outer line he had made for the band around the compass, “ _ et voilà _ , tattoo.”

“Does it hurt?”

“A little,” Kallias admitted and Damen pulled back to give him a slight break. Thank the gods. Looking up from Kallias’ skin, he found Laurent staring straight at him.

He peeled off his latex gloves so that he could reach across and take the fine bones of Laurent’s wrist. “Everyone is different but...generally, the thinner the skin, the closer to bone, and the closer to sensitive spots, the more it hurts.” One finger slipped under the cuff of Laurent’s sleeve and Damen’s mouth went a little dry. “The arm generally hurts the least.”

“You must not like pain then.” Laurent’s eyes flicked to Damen’s arms. 

Damen smiled under his face mask. “You’ve only seen the ones on my arms. A tattoo on the back will be about mid-tier levels of pain. Not unbearable, but not comfortable either.”

“You speaking from experience?” Laurent’s eyebrow arched up alongside one corner of his mouth. 

“Gotta convince me to take my shirt off to find out.”

“Are you both having fun?” Kallias asked from where he was basically pinned beneath the bar of their arms. Laurent pulled his back with the speed of someone who’d had sports or martial arts training. “I should let you know that I’m fine to continue now.”

“Thank you for letting me watch. It’s quite a fascinating thing to see up close.” His eyes flicked to the ink and blood on the surface of Kallias’ skin before looking back at Damen. The passion was there, all heated blue fire. “I’m going to go look at some of your photo binders and flashers.”

Damen watched him go, helpless to the form of him. 

“You’re fucked aren’t you?” Kallias said, smiling up at Damen over his shoulder.

“Lias, you shouldn’t tease someone who’s doing you a favor. Especially if it’s permanent.” Kallias, unrepentant, winked at him. 

There was a Kemptian restaurant a few blocks from the parlor that could seat ten people at most and were famous for their mismatched antique china and page-long list of soups, stews, broths, and bisques. Damen had ordered the rich  _ avogolemono  _ while Laurent had chosen chestnut bisque and a caesar salad.

“You know, I’ve been texting you for the better part of two weeks and I feel like all I know about you is your taste in art.” Damen said as he sopped up melted butter with a chunk of brown bread. 

“Mmmm,” Laurent’s eyes were lowered to his water glass, “you never asked.”

“I’m asking now.” Laurent looked up from whatever was entrancing him at the bottom of the glass, resting his cheek on the pad of his palm. “Who are you? What do you do? What do you like?” He wanted to know more, wanted to hear Laurent continue to speak though...he had a feeling that Laurent would make him work for the information.

“Well,” one finger dipped into the water and he smiled up at Damen, “you picked well with this place. My mother’s from Kempt. People say I take after her and my older brother takes after my father. Even went into the same business.”

“What business is that?”

“I told you: business.” His smile was wicked. “Auguste going to take over the family company while I am free to do as I like.”

“Which is?”  _ Making him work for it _ . 

“Grad student. I want to be an elementary school teacher.”

Damen felt it like a jolt of adrenaline. “An elementary school teacher with a full back tattoo?” Laurent’s eyes narrowed though the smile stayed.

“A  _ cool _ elementary school teacher.”

“You hardly need the back tattoo to be cool. I’d say you’re more...mysterious.” Laurent took a small stack of napkins, hiding all but his eyes behind them in the approximation of a Veretian lady with a silk fan. “Ok so aside from keeping me up late at night and enjoying fine art, what else do you do for fun?”

“Research tattoo parlors.” Damen rolled a bit of the bread in between his fingers before throwing it at Laurent’s hair. “Are you trying to start a fight? I should have you know that I am a champion fencer.”

“I had you pegged as a nerd.” Damen was smiling widely and Laurent laughed before he could catch himself. “Most people say the opposite for me. I was on the wrestling team but I was also the valedictorian and president of our mock government.”

“Oh, I am very much a nerd.” Laurent rolled up his sleeves a bit and Damen did see the lean twist of muscle in his forearms. “I was also head of the debate team and the strategic gaming club,”  _ Oh boy _ , “so you can  _ imagine _ how popular I was. Most of my friends were horses, dogs, or books.” He said it with such practiced unself-consciousness that Damen wanted to go back to his childhood to hunt Laurent down and be friends with him. 

“Do you still like reading then? Have you read the most recent Veretian translation of the Saga of Arsaces?” Damen thought of the last book he had been unable to put down and was delighted to see Laurent’s eyes light up in excitement, one of his elbows nearly going into the empty soup bowl. 

“You read it? It’s one of my favorites.”

“I  _ can _ read you know.”

“What did you think of it?” Laurent had never looked so animated in all of their time together and Damen found himself willing to give a play-by-play of his thoughts if only to keep that look on his face.

“Do you have hours to spare? The saga is one of my favorites as well.”

“I have nowhere to be.” The passion was clear on Laurent’s lovely face, bubbling to the surface so that he almost thrummed with energy. Damen was helpless to him; he had always been helpless to fine art.

Damen drew like a madman.

Sheaves of paper were spread around him in a semicircle with endless geometry, twisting olive trees, and laurels--common themes in the Akielon parts of the Saga of Arsaces--all in pale, icy blue. He was filled with creativity after meeting someone who shared the same favorites in music and art and literature. 

The only time he paused was when his phone buzzed, signalling the scheduling of an appointment or Laurent messaging him. Their current conversation was mainly focused on the Akielon book Damen had recommended when they had gone out together to a Patran tea tasting studio after Laurent’s class had let out.

‘The main character is a useless little bitch isn’t he?’ Damen smiled at Laurent’s frustration, his Veretian sensibilities often offended by the Akielon method of approach to problems.

“The fuck are you smiling about?” Kastor threw a balled-up receipt at his head and Damen dodged it easily, staring up at his half-brother in faux betrayal. 

“I can’t just be happy?”

“Absolutely not.” Kastor and Nik said at the same time, Nik without even looking up from his laptop.

“You smile like that and you’re definitely sticking your nose--”

“Or your dick.” Nik added.

“Where it doesn’t belong.” Kastor clapped Nik on the shoulder in thanks for the assist and looked at Damen in a way that begged for something to be thrown at his head, full force. 

“Says the  _ one _ guy here who has a kid.” Kastor’s head was saved from blunt force trauma only siblings could cause by another text from Laurent. The man was clearly tearing his hair out over the protagonist. 

“Ugh, Nik make him  _ stop _ .” Kastor groaned.

Nik took a good half an hour to give Kastor the assist but finally stalked over to frisbee-toss two pieces of paper into Damen’s chest. “The both of you are so,  _ so  _ welcome.”

Damen inspected the papers and smiled as he saw that they were tickets to one of the local art galleries which was having an interactive exhibit. “Nik, you’re a  _ genius _ .”

“Yes I know. Please text back that little blond blank slate of yours and leave me in peace.”

“Blond blank slate?” Kastor asked, his grin scandalized. “Are you trying to seduce that Veretian? A  _ customer _ , Damen?” Damen shot him a glance; fraternizing with customers was probably mid-tier for the scandalous things that their group had done. Honestly the fact that Laurent was Veretian was more damning than the fact that he was a client.

“I am not trying to seduce him, I just...like spending time with him. And besides I have to actually ask him to go with me.” 

“Since when has anyone ever said no to a date with you? Bitch.” 

Laurent agreed to go only a few minutes later via text and Nik’s eyebrow flashed with metal as he raised it up in his distinctive yet silent ‘told you so’. 


	3. Lithe Body

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> I actually really love going to art museums though I have to go by myself; if I go with friends or family then I just crack jokes all the time and 'ruin the reverence' haha! Also it's so hard to resist the urge not to touch the art pieces. So tantalizing...  
> The final exhibit they visit is based on Yayoi Kusama's mirror rooms which are gorgeous and I highly recommend visiting if you're able. I just love the idea of Damen and Laurent...genuinely just enjoying spending time together. Maybe because of all the enemies to lovers and angst in canon, I like for them to have fun together. At least in this story.   
> Bonus points if you can guess which language I used for Kemptian ;)  
> Also this chapter is what you've all been waiting for! Laurent's reason for getting a tattoo (it's a good one) and what he's chosen as the subject for his tattoo (if you know me it will 100% be unsurprising haha!)  
> Enjoy!

Damen liked the gallery for how unpretentious it was. No one would look at him twice for wearing work boots and paint-stained jeans. However the fact that the arm holes of his black tank top stretched almost past his ribcage, revealing his more elaborate flank tattoos did get him a few approving second glances. With his hair tied back, he looked like he did when he was still taking art courses in university, though the clay and paint had gone from the perimeter of his fingernails.

He smiled when he saw Laurent practically part the crowd, his golden hair like a beacon in the direct sunlight. His eyes were wider than usual as he came abreast of Damen. 

“I’m overdressed.” 

“Nah, you’re fine. Maybe just roll up your sleeves and unbutton one or two of your top buttons. Nerd.” 

Laurent shot him a glare--though he did not contest the ‘nerd’ moniker--and his slim hands went to the top two buttons of his shirt. The collar fell open on an alabaster collarbone begging for red ink;  _ maybe a slim arrow or a crouched, watchful panther. _ Damen shook his head to clear the thoughts and gave Laurent a reassuring smile.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

Nikandros was a crafty, salty bitch.

Clearly most of the interactive exhibits were meant for children with the bright colors and low hanging sculptures and paintings, to the point where Damen almost hit his head on them several times. At least Laurent seemed to be enjoying himself, hopping up with exaggeration to touch every one of the statues hanging from the ceiling, suggesting that Damen tattoo every piece of art onto his back.

There was a floor like mosaic tiles that sprayed paint on a canvas whenever certain tiles were stepped on. Beyond that was a room with dyed, unwoven silk hanging from the ceilings and they managed to find one section almost the same yellow as Laurent’s hair and the strands draped over Laurent’s shoulders like the locks of princess. 

“I want you to tattoo my own face onto my back, except with this hair.” He insisted.

“Yeah? That’s what you want to go for? I should warn you, I’m no portrait artist.”

“What kind of tattoo artist are you?” Laurent sighed in false disappointment.

They had so much fun that the typical galleries seemed fairly bland by comparison.

“Not your style?” Damen asked as Laurent seemed disinterested in the paintings.

“I’d much rather run my hands across them.” Laurent grinned wickedly as if he was seriously considering it.

“Me too; let’s go.”

They grinned like idiots as the next interactive gallery was revealed to be deep fish tanks filled with water and layers of colored sand that could be mixed around as patrons dug for carved pieces of wood. Laurent did not hesitate to roll up his sleeves and dig his hands into the sand. Damen had to crouch to get low enough to stick his arms in and, though he enjoyed the feeling of the water and the sand, he enjoyed cupping his hands to shoot water at the side of Laurent’s head even more.

“You’re like a kid.” Laurent laughed as he shook the water from his hair. Damen flicked water again and Laurent yelped. “Bastard!” He looked over as though he was contemplating throwing fistfuls of sand at Damen’s head. 

“You’re one to talk. You’re probably just mad that I found a buried sculpture before you did.” Damen brought up two giant handfuls of sand and watched the colors spill through his hands to make new swirls on the surface. “I love this kind of exhibit. At museums I always want to touch the marble statues or the surface of oil paintings.”

“It would be art all on its own to watch museum security try to haul you out.”

Damen laughed at the thought, even when Laurent withdrew his hands and wiped the excess water on the back of Damen’s shirt. He was in too good of a mood to mind slightly damp clothes.

One of the last interactive exhibits was entitled ‘Shout!’ and was sectioned off with a velvety black curtain, a sign recommending ‘small groups only’ just in front of the fabric. “Want to check it out?” 

Laurent peered past the curtain and the two of them saw nothing but darkness and the silvery glint of mirrors beyond. He looked slightly unsure, his brow furrowing. “I don’t know... I don’t like...being robbed of my senses.” 

“Fair enough.” Damen smiled as he held out his hand. “But it is for kids so how scary can it be? I think it won’t be so bad with the both of us and it can’t be dark for long. I promise I won’t let you get lost.”

Laurent looked at Damen’s outstretched hand and then back to his face, as if judging his sincerity. His hand was cool, almost cold in Damen’s hand and Damen gave it a reassuring squeeze as he led Laurent past the curtain into the darkness of the mirror room. He half expected Laurent’s skin to glow in the dark. 

“How long will it stay dark?” Laurent asked and jolted as ripples of gold and blue spread out, seemingly in midair at the sound of his voice. “Oh!” 

“It’s sound activated!” Damen said in delight. At the sound of his deeper voice, starbursts of light appeared in the air, reflecting in the mirrors endlessly. The walls, the floors, the ceilings burst with gold, blue, and white so it felt like they were standing amidst the stars. “Come on!” 

The exhibit was a long hall and Laurent gave an almost cartoonish yelp as Damen pulled him forward, sprinting down the hall. Laurent was laughing Damen’s name and their footfalls were creating more and more light, until the room was more light than dark. Laurent was looking around, amazed and reached out to touch one of the fairy lights suspended from the ceiling. 

“This is  _ amazing _ !” He spun on his patent leather shoes, sparks shimmering up from around his shoulders. “Are you sure you won’t be able to tattoo this room onto my back?”

“It’d be a tall order.” Damen laughed. 

“I wonder if it responds differently to other languages.” Laurent thought aloud as he dragged Damen back to the center of the hall. His free hand cupped around his mouth for maximum echo as he shouted in Kemptian, “ _ Loinnir _ !”

The effect was instantaneous.

While they had been speaking Veretian before, Kemptian kept the blue and gold but the white was replaced by vivid green lights. Damen knew he mirrored Laurent’s delight at having found this particular secret and the two of them began shouting words in every language they knew. Red, violet, and silver intermingled with the colors they had already seen until the exhibit looked like the fallout of a fireworks show around them.

“I think I want to live in this exhibit.” Laurent said softly.

“I agree and I’m sure you could set something up inside your apartment but unfortunately we have to let other people come in as well. Come on.” It was a little disappointing to leave as the lights blinked out into darkness, but Damen supposed that was the beauty of the exhibit. 

It made him feel elation and disappointment. But it was so worth it; he had been holding Laurent’s hand for so long that Laurent’s skin was warm. 

Though he and Laurent met at least two or three times a week to go over designs in the shop or eat lunch together, Damen had never invited Laurent to a bar. The implication of a romantic date seemed too much and, despite his growing feelings, he did not want Laurent to feel uncomfortable. 

It was Laurent who finally broached the gap one evening after he and Damen had had a lively discussion about popular Veretian tattoo artists. The conversation was so entertaining and easy that even Nik and Kastor had come out to listen. After a month of steady conversation and visits, Laurent was becoming more relaxed and comfortable in the shop, currently sitting cross-legged on the floor, as he smiled up at Damen.

“I’m going to head out of the shop soon. You free to hang out after?”

Laurent stood up and stretched his arms over his head, his shirt rising up to reveal a fair strip of his lean stomach.  _ The cycles of the moon in white ink would look good trailing up the curves of his hipbones or simple lilies in dark violet lines just under his navel _ . Damen felt a crumpled receipt hit the side of his curls before Laurent caught him staring. 

“Sure. What were you thinking?”

“By all means, pretend we’re not here.” Nikandros said as he replaced one of his eyebrow piercings. Laurent shot a quick grin over to Nikandros; maybe it was the natural wickedness of Veretians but Laurent seemed to genuinely enjoy Nik’s deadpan pessimism.

“Nikandros, you want to spend more time with me?”

“Absolutely not.”

“ _ Shocking _ .” Kastor laughed, ruffling Nik’s braids into a tangle as he passed. “You two should check out the bar on Seventh Street and Sun Avenue. Jo and I went a couple months ago and it’s really nice; they play great jazz and not so loud that you can’t have a conversation.”

“Sounds fun.” Laurent said, curling his hair behind his ear as he looked back at Damen. “Shall we go?” It was surprising; Laurent had never really expressed an interest in alcohol whenever they had gone to restaurants, in spite of how much he needed to loosen up, but Damen had never pushed the issue.

“Let’s do it.” 

The bar was within walking distance and, for all that Damen lovingly roasted Kastor’s tastes in anything for the mere fact that they were siblings, Kastor did have a good eye for bars. The place had the perfect lighting, a low strain of jazz just under the hum of conversation; the centerpiece behind the bar was a false tree wrapped in chains, the branches dripping with crystals the owners had taken off of eight defunct chandeliers.

“You should tattoo the Vaskian world tree on my back.” Laurent said errantly as he stared at the decor. Damen thought of him with the branches stretching from his nape to the curve of his waist and liked the thought. Maybe because it was something Laurent had suggested unprompted.

“If you want me to.” Laurent looked over at him but was unable to question Damen any further as they reached the bar. The bartender did a double take when he got an eyeful of Laurent but Damen distracted him with a credit card. “More importantly, what do you want to drink? I’ve got first round.”

“Big spender.” Laurent joked as he leaned against the bar. “I’ll just have some kind of white wine. Surprise me.”

Damen ordered griva mixed with soda water and the two of them found a quiet table out of the bartender’s direct line of sight. 

“So...you’ve finally given in to my constant tattoo requests.” Laurent smiled after his first sip of wine.

“I knew you wouldn’t let that go.”

“You seem like you actually want it now and not like…” Damen thought of Laurent’s  _ desperation _ on their first meeting and was relieved that it had gone away. “To be honest when we first met, I wondered why you wanted a tattoo at all. But I didn’t want to pry. Didn’t want to scare you away.”

“Gods forbid,” Laurent laughed as he took another sip. “But now you pry since you’ve lulled me into a false sense of security.”

“Feel as secure as you like.” Damen winked. “At most I’ll just annoy you. But I  _ am _ curious.”

“About what will annoy me? You’re off to a good start already.”

It startled a laugh out of him; he never laughed half so much with anyone else as he did Laurent. “About why you want a tattoo.” 

“You’ll need to get me a little more alcohol to reveal those kinds of secrets.” Laurent smiled wide, mischievous and Damen knew he was dragging it out on purpose. 

“I’m curious what you’d be like drunk.” Damen laughed, imagining Laurent as less than steady on his feet. “Probably like my little nephew.” The little guy was just learning how to toddle, gripping onto furniture for balance, his pudgy feet unwieldy, and--

“Ah.” The mood shifted immediately and Laurent placed his wineglass to the side, almost fumbling it. He tensed up almost reflexively, his good humor gone. His eyes flicked away to the crystals hanging above them, but the look was empty and flat. 

With no small amount of alarm, Damen thought he had made some sort of misstep and began thinking back on what he might have said to cause Laurent offense. Luckily, Laurent seemed to take Damen’s silence as patience while he collected his thoughts. 

“Do you ever feel like your body isn’t your own?”

“What?” Damen jolted.

“Like...your mind is your own but the body is just a shell you inhabit?” It could have been the light of the bar but Laurent looked a little nervous. “I guess...sometimes I feel like my body isn’t mine.” One hand clutched his upper arm, almost defensive. “I wanted to stamp something permanently into it, to prove it’s mine.”

That certainly explained his desperation on their first meeting. 

“You want the control.” Damen nodded and Laurent looked up at him in relief. “I’ve seen enough teenagers who’ve been crushed and corralled by their parents to see the signs of someone wanting control. You’re calmer about it but...it’s the same.” He reached out and gently pried Laurent’s fingers off his arm. “I get it. The tattoo proves that your body is yours.”

“Scars would be too painful and piercings would heal. I’d get it across my whole body if I could but…”

Damen smiled, stroking Laurent’s fingers in an attempt to warm them. “There’s still time. See how you like the back first and then,” he thought about how much he wanted it. Ink up Laurent’s neck and down his fingertips, in the small of his back and on his flanks, around his nipples and navel, down the curves of his legs. “I’ll give you a discount.”

He smiled, most of the nervousness gone. “At this rate, I doubt you’ll even  _ let _ me get a tattoo.”

“I mean...even if you decide not to get a tattoo or you decide to go to another parlor, I’ve really just...liked spending time with you. I enjoy being around you.” It was the truth and not even the darkness of the bar could hide the flush that spread like blooms of watercolor across Laurent’s pale cheeks. “What? Don’t believe me?”

“Most people find me intimidating. I’ve also heard ‘stubborn’ and ‘abrasive’, as well as the occasional ‘bitchy’.”

“Oh, I won’t refute that,” Damen laughed as Laurent got up in fake annoyance, pretending to try and leave, “ _ But _ ! But I always have so much fun with you.” Laurent’s hand squeezed his slightly as he sat back down. “I like hanging out with you.”

“You are the picture of professionalism.” And then, as he glanced at Damen from under his dark golden lashes, “You really like this?”

Damen didn’t hesitate. “I like it so much.”

It was a rare day when Damen was so busy that he could not check his phone for messages but Kallias’ lover, Erasmus, came in to have endless white lines drawn between his ten thousand freckles until his body was basically a map of the stars from his shoulders to his slim waist. Then two female wrestlers from the Marlas team came in to get matching geometric around their biceps and then he and Pallas had to run out to unload a massive delivery of cleaning supplies. This was followed by a two hour session of a violet hydra that snaked from his client’s hip until the seven jaws of the hydra encircled her right nipple. He snapped off his mask with his first breath of fresh air in hours and wiped the sweat off the back of his neck as he re-tied his hair.

He hadn’t checked his phone in ages and was surprised to see a screen populated by missed calls and unread messages.

Laurent had tried to call him twice around lunch time and followed the radio silence by an address and then finally ‘just message me when you get a chance’. Damen nearly stumbled over the legs of a metal stool in his haste to get outside to call Laurent back.

“If you’re going to trip and fall and die, do it outside.” Nik said as he calmly threaded a silver hoop through a boy’s nose. “I refuse to mop up blood.”

Damen ignored him in favor of snapping a picture of the sunset to send to Laurent before he called him back. 

“Hey,” Damen was getting better at hearing the emotions in Laurent’s tone and he sounded excited, even just with one word.

“Hey. Sorry I couldn’t get back to you. It’s been packed since ten a.m. Everything alright?”

“Yeah, I just--Listen, would you be free to meet for dinner or drinks in like a half an hour?” 

Damen was delighted by the idea. “Straight to the point, huh? Are you sick? Are you being held hostage?” He could practically hear Laurent rolling his eyes through the phone.

“Never mind, enjoy eating alone.”

“No, no come back!” Damen begged through his laughter. “Tell me where to meet you and I’ll be there soon.” 

Laurent had chosen a Patran bar and hookah lounge, a shallow fountain dug into the pink mosaic floor and a constant lingering smell of mint in the air. It was still relatively early for Patrans, who tended to eat an ‘early’ dinner around 9 p.m. so Laurent was at a low table by himself. He had ordered them both tea and pineapple cakes though he did not drink the tea so much as pick up the cup of tea and place it back down without taking a drink.

“Ah, you must be the one who ordered the Akielon belly dancer.” Laurent jumped, the teacup clattering in its saucer and Damen laughed. “Your lap seems a little inadequate for a dancer of my size.” 

“I’m sorry; have we met before?” Laurent asked as Damen moved to sit, his delivery of innocent confusion so perfect that Damen almost hesitated. “I’m waiting for someone who’s been ignoring me all day.”

“He sounds like a handsome and popular guy.” Damen tossed a cup of the tea down his throat in one swallow. “Want to finally get a drink of that tea and tell me all about him?” 

Realizing he had yet to take a drink, Laurent took a sip of his tea. “I have something for you.”

Laurent seemed almost shy, timid, as he pulled up a leather briefcase so similar to what art students often carried. Damen watched as he placed it on the table they were sharing and his heart skipped a beat.

“What’s all this then? A legally binding contract? Are you going to sue me for not plastering something heinous on your back.”

“You shouldn’t abandon your tattoo trade for a career in comedy.” Laurent was cutting at first but he softened, the tops of his cheeks flushing. “After all of your constant nagging, I think I’ve finally come up with a design that I want.” His grin was subdued at first until Damen returned it at ten-thousand kilowatts, the two of them smiling at each other until their cheeks ached.

“Let’s see it then, you tease.”

Laurent must have been excited to showcase his idea because he did not play up his reveal. He unclasped the silver buckles of his briefcase and pulled out several sheets of sketch paper, thin as onion-skin, covered in red pencil drawings. 

Damen took them with excitement, eager to see what kind of tattoo appealed to Laurent.

After so many conversations and some of his own research, Damen was very familiar with what the imagery of snakes meant to Veretians.

They were harbingers of spring, of heat and sunlight, of new life and rebirth. They symbolized healing and medicine, in the past serpent having been the bane of disease carrying vermin, and the shedding of their skin made them symbols of youth and beauty amongst the beauties of Vere. In mythology, they were trickster spirits or the guardians of crossroads, giving heroes clues or riddles to assist them in their journey and in art they were everywhere, watching with clever bead-black eyes. Not to mention, the ancient Veretian assassins had loved to use snake venom against their enemies.

With their sinuous curves and smooth lines, Damen found the image of a serpent very fitting with Laurent.

“What do you think?” Laurent asked, tilting his head so he could see the papers again. Damen had a feeling he had the images memorized; the sketch papers were decidedly creased along the edges from hands taking them out, inspecting them from every angle, perhaps even laying them across his bare back to see the effect. 

“I think they’re beautiful and that they’ll suit you. But we can truly make them yours. The colors, the designs in the scales, the way the snakes twist…” Already his mind was racing with the possibilities. 

Red ink wouldn’t suit Laurent, nor would the bold simplistic designs of Akielon patterns. He needed something subtle, soft and intricate. 

“The symbol of Vere is stars.” Laurent said, clearly thinking of the Mirror of Stars they had seen together in the gallery, his fingers stretching out like they had to touch those flickering lights. “Could you put stars on the scales? In silver and gold? The rest should be simple, black and white.” 

Damen could see it in his mind, the celestial snakes twisting around each other like they did in the first heat of spring and Damen felt his fingers twitch in the desire to sketch out his ideas. Laurent smiled like he could read Damen’s mind.

“Good enough for you?”

Damen smiled, reaching out his hand across the table. Laurent’s hand was cool in his as Damen shook it. “Let’s get you an appointment.” 


	4. Smooth Skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is brought to you by the best tattoo artist on earth (IMO), Mirko Sata who makes the snake tattoos of my dreams. I would love for that man to slap some snakes on my skin and it is 100% how I imagine Laurent's tattoo would look. Y'all should Google his work if you have the time/interest.  
> Also, I wrote a post on tumblr a while back about Smaurent being a feral little weird kid and I was SOOOOO happy to bring one of my ideas for him here. Haha he wanted to catch every animal in existence, to be fair, and I'm sure Hennike found turtles, crabs, and all sorts of little creatures in his room when he was growing up.   
> I used a lot of my personal tattoo experiences for this chapter, by the way, if you're wondering about the feeling of tattoos. For me, it felt a bit like a low-powered laser, I LOVE the smell of A&D ointment (I put it on even after the recommended days, just for the smell) and the itch of the healing tattoo is unbearable.   
> Enjoy!

Laurent was scheduled for a Monday afternoon, which turned out to be overcast and raining. Laurent shook droplets of water off his shoulders and out of his hair. He smiled, a little challenging, when he caught Damen staring. “What?”

“I think this is this first time I’ve ever seen you in anything other than a button-down shirt.” 

Laurent rolled up the sleeves of the sweater he was wearing. “I feel like it would be easier on my back to not have to deal with all those buttons.” He set his bag against the wall and Damen saw the slight trembling of Laurent’s knuckles. 

“Feeling ok about it?” 

“I’ll be fine.” Laurent insisted, though he was careful to avoid Damen’s gaze. Damen recognized nervousness, even through the veneer of nonchalance. Laurent made a lazy path through the lobby, looking at pieces of art he’d seen dozens of times before while Damen grinned at him.

“You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.”

“You’re not the boss of me.”

“I can ask Nik to get out his needles and give you a piercing instead.”

“Going to give me one of those trashy navel rings that were so popular in Akielos five or six years ago?” He said it with the type of careless derision only the snobbiest of Veretians could manage and Damen smiled even wider. He had fond memories of his vacations in the beach towns of Akielos and Patras, bedding salt-sweet beauties with skin darkened by the sun and their navel piercings glittering like sunken treasure. But what was better was--

“I was thinking nipple piercings.” Laurent coughed to keep from laughing. “Nothing cooler than a teacher with silver nipple rings.”

“I’ll pass.” Those ice-blue eyes finally found the nerve to look at Damen. Apparently humor broke the tension. “I want this tattoo. And I’m not afraid of you.”

“Come on back whenever you like then.” 

Nik was in Damen’s tattoo room flicking one black fingernail against a hollow piercing needle. His smile was wicked, his silver snakebite piercings looking like fangs. “You need something to keep your hand steady? You’re jittery. Luckily for you, I have the skills to inject it directly into your dumb ass.” Damen shuddered.

“Nik, it’s a little unnerving when you’re so sunny. Are you ill? Maybe we should take drugs together.” Nothing good had ever come from them drinking or doing drugs together and Nik wrinkled his nose accordingly. Damen ruffled his braids as he passed. 

“Thank you, I’d rather perish. Just...please remember my one rule for the shop.”

Though it was tempting, though he had fantasized in his early days of working about making love on the reclining chair where his customers sat for tattoo sessions, Damen had mostly moved past that now. Mostly. 

“Nik,  _ please _ . You’re a punk; you have to break the rules and encourage others to break them too or...your aesthetic is just for show.”

Nik tried to push past him but Damen slapped him on the ass on the way out. It was a good, solid hit that would sting. “I’m going to break into your house and spray paint  _ mati _ all over your walls.” 

Damen thought of the  _ mati _ \--the evil eye tattoo--Nik had insisted he get on his ass cheek in order to ‘keep his dumb ass’ out of trouble. It had thus far been fairly unsuccessful. “Whatever helps you sleep easy at night, Nik!”

Laurent seemed to have gathered up his nerve by the time Nik had gone back to his own workshop. “Aw, he didn’t want to stick around?”

Damen winked. “Nik just likes trying to tell me what to do. Are you ready?”

Laurent nodded, reaching over his head to grab the back of his shirt to shuck it off. Damen tried not to stare; suddenly the stencil printer was the most fascinating thing in the world to him. But he’d have to look up eventually.

The paper was still warm as Damen built up his nerve. He nearly dropped the paper on the ground anyway.

Laurent had looked so slender in his tailored clothes but it was clear that fencing and horseback riding and flexing his lightning quick mind had given Laurent muscle. He was lean and toned as an ancient sculpture in a Veretian art museum and Damen wanted to ink along the lines of his body.  _ Red horses along his serratus muscle, black ripples of runes around the curve of his pectoral, blue feathers stretching from his abdominal muscles to his back _ .

Like the blank slate of a canvas, he was beautiful for his potential. 

Just like his face, the skin of his body had not so much a freckle, the only interruption being the dark spot of his navel and the twin spots of pale pink on his chest. Damen wanted to ink him up so badly, he briefly considered calling Nik back to take him up on a relaxant. 

“Is something wrong?” Laurent asked, squaring his shoulders in a decidedly masculine way. Though he was smiling, Damen had a feeling that Laurent would fight him if he misstepped. 

“I bet you look like something after a day in the sun.” Damen joked in response. “No wonder you always wear long sleeves.”

“Red tattoos would match.” Laurent’s smile lost its edge, though he kept his arms folded across his chest.

“I’ll bet. You want to go over and lie on the be--the chair?” He flushed, trying to stay professional as he accidentally started with ‘bed’. “I-I just need to...get my gear on.” He nearly fumbled the box of latex gloves as he saw his actual canvas: the hard muscles of a lean back, the perfect line of the spine, the two dimples on the very base of Laurent’s hips, just above the waistband of his trousers.

Gods, he was so fucked.

“What are you up to?” Laurent asked as he settled into the chair, blond hair spilling over his arms like liquid gold. 

Damen had his surgical mask and latex gloves on, had all his tools lined up. “I have to disinfect you and get all the hair off of your back,” He leaned forward, squinting his eyes, “that is...if you even  _ have _ any hair.” It was there, but golden and finer than peach velvet.

“I’m not carved from stone.” Laurent scoffed.

“Well then that means that you’ll bleed if I nick you, so try not to move too quickly. This will take a little bit.”

He took a deep breath before he put his hand on Laurent.

His hand rested naturally low on Laurent’s back and Damen tossed the razor, the plastic clattering to the floor, as Laurent jolted. It was like he had been electrocuted and he turned back with eyes wide in shock.

“I haven’t even started yet.” Damen laughed through his shock. “Oh, now I’ll have to get a new razor. This one’s not sterile anymore.”

Laurent looked at his hand. “Could you--please don’t...pin me down with your hand. The latex is...very cold.”

Damen smiled back at him as he reached over to get a new razor blade. “I won’t, I swear. I’m just resting my hand here to steady myself and you can shake me off whenever you want.” He felt Laurent trembling a little under his gloved hand and Damen felt concern for the first time. He made his touch very light. “Hey...I won’t hurt you and I won’t pin you down. I promise.”

It was clear that Laurent was still nervous but he was also stubborn as hell. He nodded and rested his head on his arms again. 

Though shaving an entire back was slow going, Damen went as quickly as he could, asking questions the entire time to keep Laurent’s mind occupied until it was time to wipe off the excess hair with one of his wipes.

“And we’re done. Time for the stencil.”

The indigo ink of the stencil sank into Laurent’s skin with ease.

Damen was fairly in love with the design that he and Laurent had perfected after a few drafts. Three snakes twisting around each other in endless loops and curves from the wings of Laurent’s shoulder blades to the neat taper of his waist. Two had their jaws open, fangs bared, and around the tangled mess of them was another serpent in a halo with its teeth clenching its tail. 

“How does it look?”

“Amazing.” Damen breathed, perhaps sounding a little too excited for his own good. He cleared his throat. “This one with its fangs out reminds me of you when you’re annoyed with me.” 

“Oh shut up.” Laurent kicked out at him, Damen dodging deftly out of the way.

Damen pulled up his stool and his tools, the tip of the needle going into the pitch black ink he’d taken out. His heart was racing as he saw all the work that he was going to get to do. No turning back after this.

His touch on Laurent’s back was gentle but he still felt the young man tense. “You ready?”

“Are  _ you _ ?” Laurent asked, still feisty. 

Damen smiled through his mask and lowered the tip of the needle to Laurent’s smooth skin.

A ripple went up Laurent’s skin at the first feeling of the needle though, to his credit, he kept very still otherwise. Damen did not look up from his work as he talked, conversation during inking a skill he had picked up after years of practice. “How’s it feel?”

“Not...terrible.’

“You know those shitty old spy movies that have the bright red laser beams that burn through clothes?” He lifted the needle, anticipating Laurent as he shook with silent laughter. “I’ve always described it like that.”

“Of course you would watch terrible spy films. I think,” he paused as Damen lowered the gun again, “it feels more like...when you try to catch wasps or bees and they sting you over and over.” 

It was Damen’s turn to laugh. This tattoo was going to take ages if Laurent didn’t stop being so funny.

“The fuck is wrong with you?”

“What?”

“Who goes out of their way to catch a  _ wasp _ ?” In some way he had a newfound respect for Laurent. “In your hands too?”

“I wanted to catch the bees because I wanted to touch their fur.” Laurent explained as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “And the wasps...I let those loose in my uncle’s house. I learned my lesson with hornets though.”

“Fuck, you’re braver than me. I knelt on a wasp once on my sixth birthday and I learned my lesson then. I really,  _ really _ want to go back in time to meet you when I was a kid. You sound like those Veretian forest spirits.”

“The Fey?”

“That’s them.” Damen wiped away the excess ink and felt a rush of adrenaline on seeing the black line on Laurent’s skin. “If there’s ever a wasp loose in the shop, I’ll give you a call. That would terrify the hell out of Nik and Kastor, seeing you catch a wasp with your bare hands.”

“I hardly make a habit of it these days. Though...I would be willing to consider making an exception.”

Their conversation segued quite naturally in terrible movies they enjoyed watching though, whenever Damen was hit again by the imagery of young Laurent snatching wasps out of midair, he paused the needle to wipe the excess blood and ink to laugh silently. 

As he worked, he thought of how nice the matching tattoos would look on the back of his hands:  _ a wasp on the left, a bee on the right. One of the symbols of Vere emblazoned on his back, his weapons inked on his hands.  _ Damen had quite the list of tattoo ideas ready for the future. 

But for now…

The snakes bloomed beneath him, sharp against the white of Laurent’s skin.

He was just working on their bodies and heads for the first session. Damen went over the outlines until the lines were thick and black. Just like the tattoo processes of ancient Akielos, the sharp outlines would guarantee the art wouldn’t fade for many years, even in the baking southern sun. 

The hours of tattooing had never gone by so quickly. 

When his phone alarm went off, Damen stretched out his arms to get the feeling back into his biceps and fingers and Laurent propped himself up on his elbows. “It’s over?”

“For today. I’ve done the outline of the snakes and the stars and I’ll start on the smaller details and the scales next session. With all the little details, I think we should be able to finish the entire thing in four or five sessions. Want to see it so far?”

Laurent kept his shirt clutched close to his chest, like a girl would, as he sat up gingerly to catch a glimpse of his back in Damen’s full-length mirror. “Fuck me.” Damen turned halfway out the door, wondering for a split second if the phrase was meant as an order for him. “It’s really happening.”

“You like it?”

It was clear from the soft look in his eyes that he was enamored. “So far. I’ll wait until the end to pass judgment, just in case you fuck it up.”

“Glad you have so much faith in me.” 

“It’s going to be interesting trying to put on that cream you give to your other customers.” Laurent bent his arm at an awkward angle, trying to touch his fingers against the center of his back. “Might have to enlist my brother once he gets off work.  _ If _ he ever gets off of work.”

“If you need help, I’m off work in fifteen minutes and I have some of the ointment in my apartment. If you want, I can help you out with it.”  _ Smooth _ . Laurent glanced at him sidelong and Damen focused very hard on making sure his gloves landed exactly in the wastebasket. “I’ll even give you a tube from my linen closet. I’ve got quite the collection.”

“An ointment collection?” Damen heard Laurent step down and the hair on his arms raised. It was like he was in the same room with some graceful predator. “Just when I thought you couldn’t get any cooler.”

He was tactfully silent until Damen no longer had any further protective gear to remove. 

When he turned, Laurent had his sweater draped over his shoulders to protect his new tattoo from the rain. With his bare torso, it was a strong look. There was a wicked twist to his mouth, as if he knew his silence was making Damen sweat. “Lead the way then.”

Damen’s apartment was a few blocks away from the shop in an older brick building that had been completely renovated inside, boasting luxury apartments for the less-than-starving artist type. Damen often missed his family’s traditional home in Lentos so he had bought and whitewashed dozens of shelves on which he set frothing green plants and a small library’s worth of novels and art books.

Damen knew by now that books were one of Laurent’s greatest weaknesses and watched as Laurent’s eyes scanned the volumes with hungry eyes, any tenderness on his back forgotten. He had the largest of Damen’s Akielon art books open in his arms by the time Damen returned from his linen closet with an unopened tube of A&D ointment.

“Think I’ve got enough here to keep you busy for a while?”

“A week at least.” Laurent said with the confidence of someone who tore through books. “Though I doubt I can carry more than a few with this ache in my back.”

“Mmm. Well, you could always come over.” Damen offered lightly. “Spare your arms and your back.” He liked the look of Laurent in his apartment, the lean cut of him a sight Damen could get used to as a fixture in his house. He’d have to buy more books; he had the money for it and...it would be worth it.

Laurent looked over his shoulder and Damen nearly fumbled the box as he saw those blue eyes stark against the black outline of his new tattoo. “Sly Akielon, are you trying to entice me into your lair?” Damen laughed at the quote from the Saga of Arsaces, though Laurent had altered it for his convenience; the sly one in question from the book was in fact Veretian.

“Clearly I am a master if so. You’re already here, trapped in my web.”

“I was tempted by the promise of whatever magic cream you have in that box.” Laurent lovingly placed the book back on the shelf before moving over to Damen’s massive black leather couch to lay down. He made a strange expression, bordering on wincing, as he bent his arms so that he could pillow his head on them. “Tell me, what type of sensation should I be looking forward to tomorrow? More soreness? Bleeding?”

The cap of the ointment came off and fell to the floor, rolling under the couch as Damen was distracted by the sweet way Laurent crossed his bare, pink feet at the ankle. So proper, even while laying down. 

Damen had always liked the smell of the A&D ointment, like linseed oil, and he breathed in deep as he smeared a generous line onto his fingers. “I think worse than the pain of the tattoo is the itching when it heals. You just want to peel your skin off sometimes, it’s so bad.”

“You’re really good at selling it, aren’t you?” Laurent said, his shoulders shaking slightly. 

“If you scratch and ruin it, I’m going to wrap your hands in gauze.”

“You don’t scare me.” 

He flinched as Damen applied the first bit of ointment and Damen paused. “Does it hurt?”

“No, it’s quite soothing. I’m just not used to being touched.”

“You came to the wrong people then.” Damen laughed. “Akielons are naturally very touchy. But let me know if it’s too much.” He traced the curve of one of the snakes with the ointment. 

“I’m Veretian. Excess comes with territory.”

Damen laughed, thinking of the frothing madness of the Veretian art Laurent had shared with him before. But it also did bring a question to mind. “Why did you choose an Akielon tattoo artist, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Laurent looked back at Damen with half-lidded eyes. “I needed an Akielon tattoo artist. I heard Akielons, as a general rule, have warm hands and...I don’t think I could bear to have someone with cold hands touching me. Everyone said you were the best, so…”

“Hot head, hot hands.” 

“It’s very soothing.”

“Well, if you ever need a warm touch, let me know. I’m your man.” The offer sounded at once too bold and unbearably cheesy; Damen flushed the moment it left his mouth, hoping that Laurent did not turn to look back. There was a slight shift under his hands and he ducked his head in hopes that his wild curls would fall forward and hide his expression. 

“I’ll...keep that in mind.”

The conversation died down until Damen had finished applying the A&D ointment and helped Laurent up off the couch. He had a full-length mirror just next to his bookshelf and, as he came back from fetching one of his oversized t-shirts, he saw Laurent twisting to look at his back. With the sheen of the medicated ointment, Damen could see every muscle flexing under Laurent’s skin, like the gloss of a freshly varnished oil painting. The snakes seemed to move with him. 

“Like it?” Damen smiled because he could already tell Laurent liked it. Seeing people enjoy their tattoos never got old for him. 

“So far. What’s with the shirt?”

“Don’t want to get the ointment on your nice sweater.” Damen shrugged, holding it out and Laurent gave a wicked little grin as he took it.

“Are you sure it’s not because you want to see me in your clothes?” Laurent tugged the shirt over his head and it fell down to mid thigh, the neck of the shirt gaping around his collarbone. The ratted old thing had never looked so good.

“Looks good on you. You can keep it if you want.”

“I notice you didn’t answer my question.”

Damen winked as he passed Laurent, having every intention of dodging the question. “But, wait! There’s more.” Laurent laughed at his impression of an infomercial salesman. “I’ll let you take this ointment as well.”

“It’ll still be a real bitch to apply this on my own.” Laurent said thoughtfully as he rolled his shoulders, getting used to the conflicting sensation on his back. Damen couldn’t help but take advantage of the clear opportunity. 

“Drop by the shop anytime you want and I’ll reapply it for you.”

He had only turned his back for a moment, but Laurent was quick. In that moment, Laurent had come abreast of him and Damen could not focus on anything else.  _ Gods, that face _ ...Damen wished he was better at tattooing portraits but then he ran the risk of never drawing anything ever again. Laurent smiled like he knew exactly what Damen was thinking. 

“I’ll hold you to it.”


	5. Bright Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5/6 here we goooooo!  
> Haha first of all I am very much satisfying my love for Lamen with kids, and I really need to write a dad fic for the both of them sometime soon. Usually people go with Theo for the baby, but I decided to mix it up this time. Also Jokaste 1000% has a septum piercing in this AU.  
> Also I LOVE the idea of Damen wooing Laurent with things that make him happy and comfortable; kind of like steadily coaxing a feral cat into your house haha! I guess his love language this time around is gifts? He's going to get Laurent more shirt garters, believe you me ;)))  
> Enjoy, my loves!

Even though their appointments were spread apart to let the details heal, Laurent still came to the shop regularly--two to three times a week. The first time he came back after his first session, Jokaste was there with Damen’s nephew, Athan, and Damen noticed that Laurent’s fingernails were bitten.

“Itches like a bitch, huh?” Damen said by way of greeting as he balanced Athan on one bicep. 

“Damen, don’t fucking curse in front of my baby.” Jokaste said without looking up from her book on rare Patran vinyls. The owner of a vintage music shop and co-owner of an indie record label, Jo had the same deadpan snark as Nik and the same love of constantly arguing with Damen. Maybe that was why she and Kastor had fallen in love almost immediately.

“Don’t gloat. It was torture.” Laurent glanced to Jokaste before fixing firmly on Athan, his eyes veritably lighting up. “Who’s this?”

“The woman on the couch who is wildly out of my brother’s league,” Jo did laugh at that, her teasing nature extending to her husband as well, “is my sister-in-law, Jokaste. And this is my nephew, Athanasios, also known as Athan. Say hi Athan.” Damen loved the little boy, with his wild, poofy curls and enormous, dark eyes, and he took one pudgy arm to help Athan wave at Laurent. 

Laurent clearly melted, his smile enormous. 

He spoke in Kemptian first, his tone lilting and sweet, before he switched to Veretian. “Hello baby.” Athan tilted his head at the unfamiliar language but--like his uncle--seemed to like the look of Laurent and grinned, his eyes pinpricks in his fat, brown cheeks. 

Damen spoke in quick Akielon to his nephew, knowing that it would make Athan giggle. “You have it easy since you’re cute.” Athan indulged them with his baby laughter and it was obvious Laurent was in love. 

“May I hold him?” He asked Jokaste.

She looked up from her book to wink at Laurent. “If you don’t mind giant wet patches on your shirt, be my guest. He drips like a leaky faucet, don’t you my baby?” 

With the attentions of Laurent and his mother, Athan was shaking all of his limbs in boundless joy as Damen handed him over. “Takes after his dad in that way.” 

Jokaste cackled but Damen was too obsessed with watching Laurent interact with Athan to continue teasing Kastor. Athan, delighted by a new audience, babbled and chirped in a language all his own while Laurent responded in beautifully proper Veretian. The current topic of discussion was various fruits and vegetables and which ones Laurent preferred whole versus mashed.

“Abababababa!” Athan screeched before shoving part of his fist into his mouth.

“An interesting counterpoint. I, on whole, find peas to be foul. Mashing them does not seem to add to the appeal.”

“Gripping debate I see.” Damen laughed. “You here to talk fruits and vegetables? Or set up another appointment?”  _ Or to see me? _ Gods, he hoped. 

“Don’t see why I can’t do both.” Laurent rested his cheek on Athan’s curls and the movement must have irritated his healing back. His face twisted with the soreness he must have felt. “Also I was wondering if you could help me reapply? I did as much as I could on my own but...there’s just some parts I can’t reach.”

Damen had been unable to rest the night before for the memory of Laurent’s lovely back. The prospect of seeing it again so soon was...

“My pleasure.”

He felt Jokaste’s gaze on them both but Athan saved him from further scrutiny. 

Kastor, returning to the shop, had passed by the window and Athan was elated at the sight of his father. He squealed and bounced in place, his solid head connecting firmly with Laurent’s chin. 

Damen shook, trying to keep his giggles in as Laurent massaged his jaw. “Hard-headed, just like his uncle. Alright Athan, little sunshine, should we go meet your father?”

Laurent carried Athan outside to meet Kastor and his smile was positively dazzling as he watched Kastor toss his son up into the air and catch him. Every time he met with Laurent, he discovered something new and charming that made him feel like he was glowing.

Damen’s lips upturned unthinkingly. 

“Oh. You’re  _ fucked _ , aren’t you?” Jokaste asked, taking a break from watching the scene outside to glance Damen’s way. She was as frustratingly perceptive as Nik.

Damen could only sigh. He’d been hearing that a lot lately. 

Laurent came to Damen’s apartment nightly to have his back tended to.

Though the ointment was technically only needed for the first three days after a tattooing session, but then Laurent had looked up at him with those bright blue eyes and asked about how he would apply the unscented lotion alone. Damen’s throat was dry and he was fond of having Laurent over in his house. 

“I can...help with that as well.” 

“Great. I’ll be over at seven. Shall we order in or…?” 

Damen’s mind nearly short circuited as he thought of Laurent coming over to his house every night. He’d have to re-stock his pantry. His world was alight with the possibilities of Laurent watching movies with him, the two of them cooking or reading together, talking till late at night without the barrier of their phone screens. Maybe after a week or two Laurent would spend the night in his guest room or fall asleep on his couch. Maybe after a little longer Damen would consider closing the distance and…

But first, the tattoo had to be finished.

After the outline of the snakes, Damen needed two sessions to simply ink in the individual scales of the four snakes, his wrist aching like the devil after doing so many fine details. Almost a full month and a half passed from their first session until the night when Damen scheduled his final appointment with Laurent.

“One more and we’re done.” Damen said rolling the bottle of metallic tattoo ink along the countertop. Laurent tensed and Damen imagined the finished product glittering on his back. “Just the metallic details left and--”

“So soon.”

Damen put the ink away, his fingers aching to begin. “Yeah! I can’t wait to see the finished result. And Nik will be so upset that you won’t be coming in for appointments anymore.” Damen said so jokingly, but the moment the words were out of his mouth, he felt a pinprick of despair over losing his days with Laurent. He was so used to Laurent’s presence now. He looked forward to spending their evenings together.

There would be no excuse for Laurent to come over every day unless--

_ Unless you ask him to come back. As more than a customer and more than a friend _ . 

He  _ wanted _ it.

Damen was likely not the best conversationalist after this realization. As he followed in a soft daze behind Laurent on the familiar track back to his apartment, he thought of how nice it would be to have Laurent’s hand in his on the walk, knowing he could lean down and kiss the crown of that golden head. When he poured wine for the both of them and showed Laurent the new art books he had bought, Damen thought of how much he wanted to give Laurent little gifts for no reason at all. Art books and fine wine and little snacks...maybe even that bumblebee keychain he had seen that was made out of soft faux fur and would likely result in Laurent releasing wasps into his room.

Laurent smiled softly as he flipped through the new books Damen had purchased and Damen was intoxicated by the idea of the smile staying there indefinitely.

When Laurent primly removed his shirt, letting Damen see the tattoo twisting over the fine muscles of his back, Damen couldn’t help but think...about Laurent stripping further. He would smile in that wicked way of his, knowing that every inch of him destroyed Damen’s ability to think. He wanted all of it, he wanted to continue being with Laurent.

So caught up in his own thoughts, it took him a little longer to notice that Laurent was quiet under his hands, his shoulders tense, even though Damen was almost finished applying the ointment. Normally he was almost boneless by the time Damen was finished touching him.

“You’re so quiet.” Damen said as he rubbed on the lotion with his thumb. It was like varnish on an oil painting, the sheen of it bringing out the sharp details he had put there. “Got something on your mind?”

Laurent had always crafted his responses very carefully, unless Damen had either a slip of the tongue or an incorrect fact. Then his tongue moved at the speed of a goddamn whip. 

In any case he was not at all impatient as he waited for Laurent to gather his thoughts.

Laurent propped himself up on his elbows, his hands folded in front of him. “I...I don’t want it to be over.” Damen paused at his tone, unsure of how to place it and Laurent glanced back at him. 

“The tattoo? You want to add more?” Damen felt a small bit of disappointment, though he’d never say anything out loud. He felt the original design was the perfect balance of simplicity and detail; he had gotten used to the idea of it on Laurent’s back...but, it was Laurent’s decision. “I--”

Laurent laughed. “Damen...you know, everything you think shows on your face.”

Damen flushed. “If you want to add more details, it’s...fine.”

“I don’t. I don’t want that. It’s perfect the way it is.” Damen’s relief was palpable and he felt his expression shift; this time he laughed alongside Laurent, caught in his transparency. “But I still...don’t want this to end.”

“Getting inked is fun isn’t it?” Damen said lovingly, remembering the first rush he’d gotten seeing his finished tattoo at sixteen. “More so than fun...it’s  _ addicting _ . Once you see how easy it is, it’s all over.” 

Laurent’s forehead dropped to the couch. “You’re so--I’m not talking about that. I do want to see the finished work. Gods, you’re really going to make me say it, aren’t you?” When he glanced back up over his shoulder, he looked almost...shy. “I quite...like coming to the shop and, you know...spending time there. It will be hard to come up with excuses to drop by if the tattoo is done.”

Damen cut to the most important information he had gleaned. His smile was so wide it hurt his cheeks. “You like spending time with me.”

“I  _ said _ ,” Laurent’s ears were clearly crimson, even in the low light, “I like coming into the shop.” And yet, he didn’t deny it. Damen was elated as the blush spread from Laurent’s ears to his cheeks. “ _ Stop _ smiling like that!”

“You like being around me don’t you?” Damen pressed, sitting on his floor so that he was eye level with Laurent. “Is it really so hard to say?”

Laurent narrowed his eyes a little. “When I know you’re going to be smug about it,” he closed his eyes as Damen leaned forward to brush his golden hair out of his face. “Yes.” 

“I like it. I like being around you. I think…” He thought it over carefully, how he felt, “I think if I were to see you every day, spend time with you every day then my life would be better for it.” Laurent’s expression was something else and Damen was so delighted by it, he kept his hand resting lightly against Laurent’s temple as he continued. “I go to sleep excited to talk to you again in the morning. Is it the same for you?”

Always known for talking too much, it seemed as though Damen had finally found a way to render a Veretian incapable of speech. Laurent blushed furiously as he leaned into Damen’s hand, his cheeks boiling hot. 

“Come to the shop anytime you like. Come to my apartment any day.” He did not want to presume so much, but the true meaning was thick in his words.

_ Be with me _ . 

Normally Damen was all action, with Laurent filling the silence. But Damen had done all the speaking; Laurent had to be the one to close that final distance between them. 

He shifted on the leather couch and Damen saw the snakes move.

Laurent’s cold hands rested on his forearms, those cool fingers each managing to touch one of Damen’s tattoos: a thumb on the bands of geometry, a pinkie on a rune, a ring finger light against the very tip of a laurel leaf. The silk of his hair brushed against Damen’s temple and Damen’s vision was completely filled with those breathtaking blue eyes before Laurent closed them. 

Damen had imagined for more hours than he’d like to admit what it would be like to kiss Laurent. Though his hands were cold, he was a fiery thing when he wanted to be and Damen imagined he’d be a whirlwind with a hot tongue and teeth buried in Damen’s lower lip.

But his kiss was light and sweet, a little hesitant like those Veretian statues of youths kissing gods. Damen’s mind supplied the answer with the skill of someone who had kissed enough people to make an assessment. 

_ This was like a first kiss _ . 

When Damen deepened the kiss just a little, incorporated just a tiny bit of open mouth and light tongue, he  _ felt _ Laurent’s face heat with blush.

He pulled back slowly and saw that Laurent’s pale blue eyes were unfocused and hazy, his lips still wet and half-open. “ _ Laurent… _ ”

“Why did you stop?”

An excellent question. Damen kissed him again by way of answering and this time Laurent was ready for him, mouth open. It was all so fast, he wanted to go slow and  _ savor _ but...he had also never wanted someone so badly before. Laurent made a small noise of contentment as Damen ran light hands up and down his bare flanks and Damen pulled back again. 

“Tell me if you want me to sto--mph!” It would be so hard to stop, but he would if Laurent wanted to. However, judging by the way Laurent was interrupting him in favor of deeper kisses, it likely wouldn’t be a problem. 

Gods, but he learned quickly. 

If this was his first kiss, Laurent was certainly making up for lost time. With each passing moment, Laurent was getting  _ better _ , more assured and dominant until Damen felt like he was going to melt from the skill of this crafty, beautiful Veretian. 

Laurent’s hands were everywhere on him--in his hair, on his cheeks, down his chest--his slim legs slotting between Damen’s. I felt nice until Laurent slid his hands under Damen’s shirt, coming to rest just under his nipples. It was like winter under his shirt. 

“Ah!” 

Laurent jerked back a bit, “Did I hurt you?” 

Damen laughed as he placed his hands lightly over Laurent’s wrists, keeping them in place. “You’ve got some cold hands.” It was like having cool stones on his skin and his nipples tightened accordingly. “Ooh gods, cold blooded, just like a little snake. Should I warm you up?”

“Shut up,” Laurent blushed furiously as he took big handfuls of Damen’s shirt and yanked him down for another kiss. Damen’s arms went around Laurent’s head and hips, careful to avoid the slick skin of his tattoo. With Laurent arching his back, only his shoulders and heels touched the leather of Damen’s couch. Damen felt hands tugging at the hem of his shirt and he broke the kiss impatiently to shuck off his shirt with one hand, tossing it into the green fronds of one of his plants. Then he rocked back on his heels so that Laurent could see.

His bare body was a dark canvas of blue, violet and black. 

He had blue sea serpents with gaping jaws around his waist, famous Akielon frescos done in miniature, geometry on his chest and an olive tree on his flank. When he breathed, the art breathed with him and Laurent watched, his blue eyes luminous even in the low light.

“Gods,  _ you’re  _ like a gallery.” Laurent murmured, eyes wide and reverent as he took in the painted lines of Damen’s torso.

“That may be the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me.” Damen took Laurent’s cool fingers and pressed them against his flank where twin wolves prowled his right oblique. “I’m pleased to inform you that this is an interactive gallery. You can touch the art as you like.”

Laurent looked torn and Damen understood.

_ Get a good look at the tattoos or continue to be touched _ ? Truly an agonizing decision.

“I can...always look later.” He said absentmindedly, his cool hands causing Damen’s muscles to tense.

“Absolutely.” Damen cupped the back of Laurent’s head for another kiss, his fingers trailing over the skin of Laurent’s waist. “We’ve got all night...all morning and...maybe some of the afternoon?” Nik would kill him for being late and Laurent laughed against his lips. 

“ _ Such _ excellent customer service.” He twisted his hips so that his back was exposed, so that his tattoo would be safe as they--

Damen tugged Laurent’s trousers by the waistband, his heart palpitating as he saw the tight muscles of Laurent’s legs. He couldn’t even think of what ink he wanted there. He just wanted to run his tongue up and down those sleek thighs. Taking in all the details, the way Laurent shivered as his pants were removed, of course Damen noticed the twin bands of black that remained. 

“The fuck are these?” Damen choked as he saw the black straps around Laurent’s thighs. They were tight bands against the skin of his legs, vertical straps hanging down as if in want of stockings. He snapped one and Laurent flushed, bristling at the question.

“They’re shirt garters, you uncultured asshole.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong: I  _ love _ them. Please feel free to wear them all the time.” Damen traced them with his finger, “Actually feel free to wear nothing but these shirt garters.  _ Nerd _ .”

Laurent was prevented from making some snarky remark when Damen ran his tongue under the black straps, his yelp making Damen feel wicked. Though he was gentle, though he kissed and licked, he left a steady trail of bites up the inner curve of Laurent’s thighs. 

His short black briefs  _ had _ to be tailored. No underwear could fit so goddamn tight to the skin and still look effortlessly comfortable. 

“ _ Wait _ !” Laurent hissed, grasping a handful of Damen’s curls, which were already rebelling and spiraling out of his ponytail. Damen’s lips paused on the crease where Laurent’s ass met the back of his thigh. “You absolute madman. I’m not--I haven’t... _ cleaned  _ thoroughly.”

“Why not?” Damen asked, pretending to whine as he pushed the fabric up so he could pinch a generous amount of cheek. 

_ More than tattoos, he wanted marks from his mouth on this section of skin. Crescents from the needle-smooth bite of his teeth, suckle marks like blossoms of ink just under the skin _ .

“ _ Because _ , believe it or not I didn’t actually plan on exposing my ass to my tattoo artist. At least not today.”

“Oh so you were planning on it at some point. Me too.” Laurent glared back at Damen, though it hardly had the same chilling effect when his face was more pink than white. “I have thought a lot about what tattoo would look good here,” Laurent flinched as Damen grazed the small of his back, “and here.” He shivered as Damen ran lips down the inside of his thigh. 

“I like how I have no say in this.”

“In any case,” Damen found that he liked having his face between Laurent’s thighs, “we are talking entirely too much. If you don’t mind…”

“You have a Plan B?” 

“I do.”

Laurent stretched out, comfortable and unhelpful, the snakes shifting with the muscles of his back. His smile was sweet. “I’m all ears.”


	6. Warm Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Another sweet little fic done! I hope you guys like this last part ;)  
> For the sake of suspending disbelief, pretend that in this world, you can have actual metallic ink tattoos because I wish they were a real thing and Laurent would look so good with hints of silver and gold metallics on his back. Damen is certainly a fan.   
> Also I wanted 1 last date/chance for Damen and Laurent to be feral together so this last idea comes from the movies Bande a Part and The Dreamers, where the main characters try to run through the Louvre in a certain amount of time (more power to them; that place is HUGE). These delinquents, I love them so and it was very in-keeping with their antics in Nesson-Eloy ;)  
> In any case, next Capri fic will probably come out closer to October because I'm so far behind in writing but I hope you all enjoy this final chapter and that it will tide you over for a month (ish). Also sorry to all the people I've been encouraging to get tattoos in the comments haha! Do not ask my advice, I will tell you to get snakes all the time!  
> I love you all and I'll see you next time!

Laurent seemed pleased with Damen’s mouth.

On his elbows and knees on Damen’s couch, Laurent had pressed his forehead firmly into the leather as the only thing to keep him steady. His hips and thighs were trembling above Damen’s mouth as Damen pressed wet kisses on the salt-sweet inner curves of Laurent’s thighs. His back  arched helpfully, pressing closer to Damen’s lips as he rested most of Laurent’s weight in his mouth.

Damen had been told in the past that he was unfairly good with his mouth but apparently Laurent was going to give him a run for his money. 

Running his tongue up and around in gentle explorations, suckling at the spots he  _ knew  _ were sensitive, even taking the whole length of Laurent deep into his throat, Laurent all but refused to make noise. He whined softly when Damen switched up tactics but...for the most part Damen had to gauge his pleasure by the way he trembled. 

At one point, he was shaking so much that Damen thought his legs would give out. 

“D-D-Damen!” His name came out in several stuttered syllables as Damen reached up and gently pinched one of Laurent peaked, sensitive nipples. It was too much for Laurent and his legs gave out in time when Damen squeezed the nipple gently between his knuckles. Heat flooded Damen’s mouth and pressed Laurent’s lower back down so his hips were flush against Damen’s mouth. 

His voice was precious and Damen savored it.

He pulled back slowly, kissing the pink tip of Laurent, before sliding up the couch so that Laurent could collapse across his torso. He was flushed pink down his neck, almost to his shoulders and Damen wanted to embroider cherry blossoms in black ink across Laurent’s collar. When he made love to Laurent, he would watch them darken from creamy white to that sweet pink.

“You drive me crazy.” Laurent murmured, trying to be irritated but clearly unable to make it believable in the afterglow of--what Damen believed was--the best blow job of his life.

Damen was enchanted as he brushed the hair from Laurent’s face. “That good huh? You act like it’s the first time you’ve had your dick sucked.” There was no small amount of pride welling up in his chest.

Laurent curled up a little, his smile shy. “It was. My first time, I mean.”

Laurent laughed at Damen’s thunderstruck expression as Damen tried to comprehend how someone so funny, so intelligent, so  _ beautiful _ could be--“Are you fucking serious? Why didn’t you tell me? Gods I would have teased you more! Drawn it out.” He could take a full hour to properly edge someone up to climax but he had been...too excited. What a waste. “I demand a do-over.”

Laurent hitched one leg up and Damen watched the muscles of his legs flex. “I’m that charming?”

“You’re going to beg me to do it quickly.” Damen promised. He wanted to see Laurent writhing, dripping tears and saliva as he pleaded for release. He was in no position to talk; he knew that the moment that he saw Laurent’s petal-pink tongue anywhere near his hips, he would be climaxing faster than a teenage boy after a three-month abstinence period. No, better to just relax and let Laurent bask the glow of his first time...

“You don’t scare me.” Laurent murmured and then laughed as Damen nearly shot straight into the air, hands like ice dipping into the waistband of his pants.

“ _ Gods _ ! It’s like you’ve been in a  _ freezer _ ! Why are your hands  _ so cold _ ?”

“It’s genetic.” Laurent said as his giggles subsided. “Everyone on the Veretian side of my family has poor circulation in our hands so...our fingers are quite cold. Me, my brother, my father, my...uncle.” He snuggled into Damen’s chest, the hands in question slipping into the warm space between Damen’s sheets and his back. “I  _ hate _ them. I hate when people have a cold touch.”

“Lucky for you.” Damen said, taking Laurent’s hands in his own. For good measure, he blew on them as well, until all the chill was gone. “I have been told that I am  _ smoking _ hot.”

“Shut up!” Laurent said through laughter.

“I like your cold hands. Gives me an excuse to hold them.”  _ He’d tattoo Laurent’s fingers with red runes to chase the cold away: runes symbolizing sun, fire, summer, sun, life _ . He kissed both of Laurent’s hands for good measure. “Oh my _ fucking _ god!” He yelped as Laurent pressed his bare feet on the inside of Damen’s thigh. If his hands were cold then his feet had to be fucking made of ice. Damen’s poor balls felt as though they were receding into his ribcage but Laurent was enjoying himself at least. 

“You’re a sap.” He giggled and then yelped as Damen rolled his full weight on top of Laurent, crushing him into the mattress. He was helpless to stop the soft, sappy kisses that Damen applied liberally to his shoulders, neck and cheeks. “And you’re  _ heavy _ .”

“Excuse me for being happy.” He couldn’t resist one last kiss to Laurent’s mouth before rolling over, letting Laurent rest on him again. 

“You’re excused.” Laurent murmured curling up a little as Damen wrapped him up in a warm embrace.

Though Laurent spent the night and Damen eventually carried him into the bedroom, they did little more than exchange shallow kisses. And Laurent had wrapped his arms around Damen’s waist while he was making breakfast for the both of them, which was somehow more memorable and exciting than some of his previous sexual encounters.

_ Laurent had spent the night. He had made Laurent breakfast. Laurent had  _ kissed _ him. _

He was still lost in his rose-colored thoughts when Laurent decided that he had day-dreamed long enough.

“I think you need more plants.” Laurent said sarcastically from where he was sitting on the tile of Damen’s bathroom floor, wrapped in one of Damen’s enormous white bath towels. Amongst the twenty five to thirty leafy green plants that Damen kept in his bathroom--not to mention the hanging baskets over the antique clawfoot bathtub--Laurent looked like one of those Vaskian forest nymphs from legend.

“I think I didn’t ask you to comment on my plant addiction.” 

Damen drew Laurent a bath--never in his wildest dreams did he imagine something so simple would make him so elated--and used every sweet weapon in his bathroom cabinets: sprigs of dried lavender and sea salts and scented oils. If he had had rose petals on hand, he would have poured them in. 

As Laurent slipped into the warm water, he made his eyes very wide and sweet. 

“Can I see your tattoos now?”

In the early morning light, Damen slipped off his sweatpants and let Laurent look at all his tattoos. Laurent directed him to move his body like he was one of those little wooden figurines people used in art school. Luckily he was quite flexible and had no qualms about being naked in front of other people. 

“What’s this?” Laurent asked, looking at the ancient Akielon script on Damen’s flank. His lips pursed thoughtfully as he tried to sound out the words. “Something ‘nos’?”

“It’s my full name: ‘Damianos’.” He watched, delighted as Laurent said the name under his breath, rolling the feeling of the words around on his tongue. “It means ‘to gentle or tame’ but...it was a mouthful for me as a kid, so I go by my nickname.”

“It’s nice. I like the sound of it.” His Veretian accent seemed thicker than usual. “ _ Damianos _ .”

“Easy.” Damen begged as the sound of Laurent’s voice, joined with the gentle fingers tracing his tattoo, caused a unique tingle in the pit of Damen’s stomach. Laurent smiled, the picture of innocence, and Damen knew he was doing it on purpose. 

“How many do you have?”

“I’ve lost count. Though...you may like this one.” He rested his foot on the lip of the bathtub to show Laurent that he also had an ouroboros inked in red on his inner thigh. He jolted again as Laurent touched his inner thigh, though--small blessings--his hands were warm from the bath water. “ _ You _ ...are doing this on  _ purpose _ .”

“Maybe.” Laurent rested his cheek on the edge of the tub. “But...I like that we’ll both have a snake. Makes me want to finish mine up.”

“We can finish it today.” Damen responded as he pulled up his sweatpants.

“You’re doing walk-ins with Pallas today though.” Laurent murmured from the tub and then flushed. “Gods, how embarrassing. I don’t even work there and I know the schedule.” He disappeared beneath the surface and Damen ruffled his wet hair.

He emerged, lovely and slick as a mermaid, and Damen had to tilt his chin up to kiss him before responding. “No, I mean, I have a lot of gear in my apartment. I can finish it today if you want.” He kissed Laurent’s shoulder next. “Finish it up and then I can take you to get some Akielon food, maybe see a movie, maybe suck you off again?”

Laurent’s ears turned scarlet against the polished gold of his hair. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

“Amongst other things.” Damen nipped at the bright red lobe of Laurent’s ear and dodged, laughing as Laurent whipped his head around to glare at Damen. “Anyways, back to the tattoo. What do you think?” He ran the palm of his hand up and down Laurent’s back, running his thumbs down the curves of the snakes. Laurent sat up straighter at the touch and Damen chided himself for ever being afraid to touch Laurent.

He absolutely melted into touch.

“Yeah...let’s do it. The tattoo, I mean.” Damen’s smile was apparently a little too much for Laurent, who was used to being the one who teased Damen. Clearly his older brother spoiled him. “But first--”

Gods, he was quick.

His lean arms wrapped around Damen’s shoulders and pulled. Combined with the slippery sides of his tub, he was helpless to stop himself as Laurent pulled him into the water. He heard Laurent laughing from under the water as his legs kicked in midair as he tried to right himself. When he emerged with long curls half-plastered over his eyes, he could feel the water pouring over the sides of his tub onto his floor, creating a hell of a mess for later. 

But...Laurent was so sweet when he was curled up between Damen’s legs, helpless to his laughter. 

Damen waited until Laurent’s laughter had subsided, his blue eyes shining. “You pleased with yourself? You Veretian menace.”

“Very.”

“Good. My plants needed to be watered anyway.” Damen sighed, before plunging both hands into the water directly in front of Laurent’s chest. He started laughing just seeing the sheer amount of water that he was capable of blasting into the air. Less of a mermaid, Laurent now looked more like a shocked and drowned cat. “What? I’m a younger brother as well.”

It was wholly unsurprising when Laurent splashed him back. Neither one of them would be satisfied until the water was all over the bathroom floor and they were sitting in an empty tub. 

But it was Laurent.

Damen had a feeling that even mopping up a bathroom floor would be fun with Laurent.

The excellent thing about being a tattoo artist who was addicted to his own medium was that Damen kept about eighty percent of his tools on hand in case inspiration struck at three a.m. and he needed a shell pattern tattooed around his right ankle. Laurent could enjoy a cafe au lait at his leisure while Damen ran to the shop to get his metallic inks, the only detail left.

He was in such a good mood that he ignored Nikandros dryly calling him ‘a feckless man whore’ as he called in sick while halfway out the door, Kastor and Pallas laughing hysterically. The endless ribbing he’d get from them was worth it to come back and see Laurent lounging on Damen’s couch in only his underwear.

He looked over his shoulder and smiled, even lovelier in profile. “Welcome back.”

Damen could get used to that. “I’m so glad your back matches your face.” He held up the gold and silver metallic inks in triumph. “A work of art.”

“Oh gods, cease and desist, Damianos.”

“I will not.” Damen snapped on his mask and gloves, his gun and inks and paper towels set up in a neat line on his coffee table. “I am going to finish your tattoo and compliment you  _ profusely _ while I’m doing it.”

Despite his promises, Damen did go a little tongue-tied at seeing his creation in ink black and creamy white. The three main snakes twisted around the muscles and bones of Laurent’s back in swirls and curves, the halo of the ouroboros begging for gold and silver ink. His heart was beating so quickly as he dipped the needle into the silver ink. 

He talked to keep his hands steady. “So...what should we do today? Our first official date.”

“I thought our first date was when you asked me out for tea and viciously destroyed my dreams of having a mystery tattoo done.”

“I want to take you to the zoo and see what things you try to catch next.” Damen shot back as he wiped beads of blood from the silver of the stars. “I want to set you loose in the big cat habitats. See you try and pet a panther’s fur.” One ice-cold foot landed a negligible hit on his flank as he got more silver ink. “Ow. Or get you in with one of those tarantulas. I bet they’re plenty fuzzy for you.”

“If you keep teasing me, I’m going to ask Nik to do my next tattoo.” It had the perfect Veretian wickedness; it would irritate Damen to see someone else tattoo his lover--his  _ lover _ \--and Nik would hate every second of it.

“Fine, but I’ll serve you mashed peas every time you come over.”

They had to stop momentarily because Laurent was alternating between laughing and kicking softly at Damen’s flank. As he calmed, Lauren shot one last giggle in Damen’s direction--spearing him directly in the heart--before lying still again.

Damen worked with single-minded determination, filling in half the stars and the snake’s eyes silver, before moving on to the gold ink. In the home stretch…

The rest of the stars would be metallic gold, as well as the scales of the underbellies; the blood that beaded up was shot through with a golden sheen so lovely that Damen thought of doing his next tattoo in red and gold. Laurent must have felt that he was close to being done. When Damen sneaked glances, his eyes always met Laurent’s bright blue ones and Laurent grinned over catching Damen staring.

When he drew the needle away, Damen slapped Laurent lightly on the ass as his ears burned. “Don’t you tease me.”

“I didn’t say  _ anything _ !”

“You’re teasing me in your heart.” Damen insisted and Laurent laughed because Damen knew he was right.

It fell to peace as Damen finished up the final details in gold. There was a soft, warm breeze through the open kitchen windows that rustled the leaves of his plants and his hands were steady on the beat of Laurent’s relaxed breathing. He wanted a thousand mornings like this...

“We’re done.” Damen murmured, wiping away the last remnants of blood and ink.

“We are?” Laurent trembled as Damen ran his fingers down Laurent’s arm. “Can I see?”

“Yeah. It might be my best tattoo ever, honestly.”

Laurent stood quickly to go look at himself in Damen’s enormous mirror and Damen’s mouth went dry. 

The tattoo looked natural there, like it had been on Laurent’s back for ages; Damen could not even remember what his bare back had looked like, but it couldn’t have been more beautiful than this. The snakes, delicate and dangerous as Laurent, moved with him in curves and curls and the stars glittered on Laurent’s back in silver and gold whenever he shifted in the slightest. His eyes shone in tandem, alight with the realization that the tattoo and its canvas were his and his alone. He was in love, clear from the joy in his expression.

Gods he was so wonderful; for the first time, Damen was sufficiently distracted from one of his finished works. “Gods, you should be in a museum.”

“Are you fishing for compliments?” Laurent smiled back at him. “Because...you  _ are _ right; I can’t deny it. You’re so good at this, you should have a gallery for your work.” His smile was so sweet and lovely that Damen had to go forward and kiss him. 

“I have a good first date idea.” Damen said with a grin, thinking back to one of the off-handed things Laurent had once said to him that had stuck in his mind. “Provided, you don’t mind causing a little trouble.”

Laurent perked up immediately.

This future elementary school teacher who was now in love with tattoos, who had once caught bees and wasps with his bare hands, who put his cold feet on Damen’s thighs and picked fights in the bathtub was trouble incarnate. His smile was sweet but his eyes glowed blue fire. “What did you have in mind?”

The local museum was a stuffy old affair. 

The same pieces of art, year after year, the same ‘enlightened’ old bastards boring the hell out of bright-eyed young art students in hopes--Damen believed--that they would abandon art altogether. They had not liked him, with his plaster-coated overalls, dried paint on the tips of his curls and visibly tattooed skin. However, his love for Laurent increased tenfold when Laurent’s expression soured at the sight of the place. It was clear that he was also not a big fan.

“Really? You’re bringing me  _ here _ ?” 

Damen squeezed his hand. “I take it this is not your favorite gallery?”

“I hear they raised the price of admission last year to prevent...people of a certain social class from being able to come in.” His eyes narrowed as if he was contemplating the best way to burn the place down. “They may as well have a sign on the door that says ‘No Fun Allowed’.”

“Hmmm...how would you feel about potentially being barred from this museum for life?”

Laurent shrugged and made an interesting expression as the motion flexed against his tattoo. “No great loss. Are we going to steal something from this museum? It’d have to be a painting; I doubt even you could lift one of those marble statues they have inside.”

“No, gods, what a date that would be!” Damen laughed. 

“Are you going to suck my dick in the museum bathroom?”

“Stop coming up with better date ideas than me!” Damen pleaded, now wondering if they should save his idea for a later date and go with Laurent’s suggestion. “Are you still interested in seeing museum security try to kick me out?”

“ _ Yes _ .”

“Good. There’s a challenge for university students with this museum. You have to run from the north entrance to the south entrance in under ten minutes without being caught by the museum security. The museum staff  _ hates _ it when people do it so...want to try?” He felt his cheek dimple deep as he smiled down at Laurent. 

“Why ten minutes?” Laurent asked, alight from the idea.

“It takes twelve minutes for police to get here after a call by security,” Damen laughed, “giving us two minutes to escape afterwards.”

“I’m in.”  _ What  _ a force he was. “Though, it will be uncomfortable to run with this shirt on. Do you think they’ll mind if I take it off?” It was clear Damen’s opinion meant absolutely nothing to him, because he was already gathering up the hem of his shirt.

“I mean, we’re already breaking one rule. Might as well break them all.” His delight was golden in his chest as he saw Laurent’s lovely back, the snakes moving along with Laurent’s skin. Rather than hissing, they seemed to be grinning, just as wicked as Laurent. In solidarity, Damen shucked his shirt off as well and he was fairly certain he heard Laurent murmur, “oh  _ fuck off _ ,” under his breath. “Ready?”

Laurent slipped his hand into Damen’s and the two of them took off at a quick walk towards the museum entrance, ignoring the glances of people who noticed that the two of them were shirtless. One such person was the woman behind the ticket booth at the entrance.

“Sirs! A shirt is required for en--”

She yelped as Damen and Laurent started to run, the two of them leaping over the ticket turnstiles without hesitation. 

“This way!” Damen insisted, starting them off towards the Vaskian war art, startled patrons all but leaping from their path. He saw the security guards begin to trip over themselves in pursuit and pushed Laurent ahead of him. “Head towards Patran glassworks next.” 

Laurent was a menace. 

While security attempted to tackle Damen mid-stride and merely bounced off him, Laurent preferred a more annoying approach. He let go of Damen’s hand to weave in between crowds and jump over benches, grasping hands missing his waist by the thinnest of margins while he laughed. His patent leather shoes slid on the polished wooden floors and he often ran at full speed only to glide for a few meters on the heels of his shoes.

Damen took his hand again as they cleared the Patran glassworks, Isthiman bone carvings, and Kemptian painted silks, entering the long hall of Veretian paintings. The oil and watercolor blurred to a mess of color in his peripheral and he heard the beautiful sound of Laurent’s laughter as he simply shouldered his way through a group of guards trying to stop them.

“Almost there!” Laurent gasped as they took the marble steps two at a time, down into the Akielon sculpture ‘garden’. “Gods, it’s  _ blinding _ !”

It was very white, oppressively so, in the sculpture garden but they could not slow; there was the sound of a phalanx of guards huffing and puffing behind them. But they had a good start and even better humor. Damen was fairly sure he saw Laurent slap the bare ass of a marble statue as they sprinted past it and a teenage girl to their left burst into laughter. “Go guys,  _ go _ !” Laurent laughed in tandem with her, his hand warm in Damen’s. 

The south exit was just ahead.

Two guards were trying to block the exit, clearly unprepared for Damen’s impressive bulk moving at top speed. He and Laurent had no intention of slowing and the guards leapt from their path at the last moment, unwilling to be bulldozed out of the way. Laurent leapt over the threshold into the open air and the metallic bits of his tattoo glinted under the sun; Damen could not take his eyes away from Laurent’s lovely, delighted face and his ink snakes flexing enthusiastically on his skin until they were safe in the cool darkness of the local metro station. 

They had run the gauntlet in nine minutes and thirty four seconds and Laurent whooped hearing the time.

Damen laughed as Laurent threw himself at Damen, the two of them spinning around like fools. “That was  _ amazing _ !” Those eyes that had rooted Damen to the spot the first time he’d seen them were sparkling with good humor and exercise, his cheeks flushed. “What’s my reward for beating the ten minute record?”

Damen kissed him and felt Laurent smile through the kiss. He had some ideas.

_ Wasps, bees, horses, auroras in green, moons in white and gray, Vaskian runes, Akielon geometry, Veretian poetry, laurels like leafy wings, and a crown set in gold ink at the base of his neck. Maybe even more snakes _ . 

“How about another tattoo? Free of charge.”

Laurent threw back his head to laugh and it was the loveliest thing. 


End file.
